Friends
by karina001
Summary: When Milliardo Peacecraft is abducted and left to die a solitary death Duo Maxwell decides to take a hand in the proceedings.
1. Chapter 1

Friends is the result of writing for the Bishi Pile mailing list's challenge. It is an ongoing project at the moment. Hope you enjoy.

As a note to Dumbledork who suggested I post this up, hope you enjoy and others do too.

0000000000000000000000000

Bishi Pile Challenge: Major challenge response to Wind and minor to Cobwebs and Bad Night. Word count: 1640

Series: Friends

Author: Karina

Pairings: 2+6

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts. Aussie spelling and unbetaed.

Chapter 1

Wind howled beyond the walls, moaning through the trees in an eerie, wailing moan. He could feel the cold caress of the draught entering through the cracks in the ramshackle old structure. The icy chill crept into his bones relentlessly, and he was afraid.

Was it the chill of the wind or the cold breath of death approaching him?

How long could a human body bleed? How long before he bled out?

How long had it been since the harsh hissed voice cursed him? What measure of time had passed since the world went dark and all sense of time and place had been taken from him?

He must have been unconscious for hours, drugged and helpless, unable to act. Helpless as a new born baby.

_ "I want this to be slow, Peacecraft. I want you to suffer. It's snowing out there and the wind is rising. The cold might get you before you bleed out." _

//Cold.//

He could still think but it was becoming harder. It would be the cold that finished him. He would sleep soon and never wake. A pleasant thought. In sleep he would not be aware of the dull ache throughout his body and the strange numb pain in his wrist.

_ //If it should stop bleeding the cold will finish you. Just the one wrist and not too deep. You need to bleed slowly. I've waited too long for revenge to make this quick or easy. I want you to have time to think about why you are dying. I'd sit here and watch but I have places to go. People to see." _

How long had it been since his tormentor left him to die? The end had to be close now.

His captor had taken pains to assure him no one knew he was missing. Not that there were many who would have cause to miss him. He purposefully led a quiet life, keeping to himself; doing his job quietly and efficiently.

He tried to keep himself out of sight and out of mind, performing his missions with efficiency and fading into the background until the next time he was called on. He had thought it was not so bad a life.

There were few he might consider calling a friend. Noin, of course, but she had been cold to him since he had disabused her of the notion he would marry her. He could not forget the past and move on and it had become more than a test of patience between them. She wanted to live in the future, to move on and forget what once had needed to be done. He, being the villain of the world, could not.

She deserved better than to be saddled with a man who incited hatred and madness in the ordinary man. She deserved better and it had taken years to get her to accept his disinterest in playing happy families and to look for someone else.

In the end he had lied to force her away from him. He had made her believe he was not interested in women in general, not just her. It was a lie. He was interested in men that much was truth, but he was just as much aware of the female sex. Bisexual. He had had to convince Noin he was homosexual before she would look elsewhere, and then she had lambasted him with every curse known to man for keeping her hanging for so many years.

He had tried to get her to look elsewhere. He had been honest for years and told her why he would not marry her but she had never listened, preferring to believe in her vision of how things should be. The world would never forget his part played in bringing about peace and he refused to involve her in his living nightmare.

The horrible truth was he did love her. He loved her enough to let her go. He loved her too much to ruin her life, though she would never see it that way.

Now she hated him, as she should. It was for the best and at least hers was one life he need not carry on his bloodied hands.

She had been a soldier, one of the best, but she had never been a killer. She had never had the instinct to kill. He was a killer. Born a pacifist, turned killer, now about to be killed.

Cold and blood loss would do the job while his killer no doubt sat before a warm fire and toasted his success with whisky or wine. Hell, he could be a beer man for all he knew.

//I should have died on a battlefield. It would have been a better fate than this.//

It was not the death he would have chosen for himself. Freezing and bleeding out in a ramshackle old hut, tied hand and foot like a trussed up pig.

It could not be long now.

He was dizzy, which would be blood loss, and tired, which would be the cold. He had stopped shivering some time ago and there was no light seeping through the cracks in the old boards. At one stage there had been a soft bluish light, enough to show him a bare room filled with cobwebs and icicles hanging from the ceiling, but now it was dark. It was too much of an effort to open his eyes if all he would see was darkness.

It could be worse. He wanted to frown at the thought, but frowning required effort and he had no energy for that.

//How could it be worse?//

He was making no sense and he knew it, but that was alright. No one was here to hear him and he was not actually speaking anyway. The sanctity of his thoughts had been his own since Treize had died.

Treize had always been able to read him like a book. It was disturbing to remember how Treize had always known what he would do before he himself had made a conscious decision. The man had been eerie. He could hold an entire conversation with you and you would not need to say a single word… and Treize had always been right.

He had even known what would happen to end the war. They had discussed so many possible scenarios as they had grown up; Treize returning time and again to see him no matter where he was living.

//Returning… to use me.//

Ah, he was feeling a little bitter. How unfortunate, he should not take bitterness to the grave with him. Not that he would have an actual grave. He had no idea where he was, but he could not believe his murderer would leave him in an area where he might chance to be found. He could lie here for years and not be discovered.

A lonely death in a lonely place, fitting that mankind should forget their bane, so long as they did not forget the peace he had sold his soul to bring about. Company might have been nice, but he had died before and always alone. This time there would be no resurrection.

No one had sought him out when he had died before, why should this time be any different? Not that there were many who would feel inclined to search for him.

Relena would wonder what had become of her brother, not that they were close. They barely spoke and only when circumstances demanded they do so for politeness sake. She would wonder what had caught his interest and caused him to vanish yet again. She would probably worry he might appear at the helm of some terrorist cell and threaten her peace.

Her peace.

It sickened him she was given the credit for bringing about peace. It was not her and her words, but the lives of men and women who fought for their ideals. That was what had given the world this peace it enjoyed today. Planetary born and colony bred cooperating together, though not exactly bosom buddies.

If all was paradise there would have been no need for Preventers.

To hear politicians talk, to see them slapping each other on the back and smiling their false smiles… Did they think people fools?

The wind must be rising; he could hear it wailing through the gaps in the walls. Where was this ramshackle old hut? Where was he to spend his last moments of life? A mountain, perhaps? A hunter's cabin, long abandoned to wind and spiders. If he could not have died in honourable battle he might have liked to die in Sanc.

Was there any chance he was in Sanc? It was deep winter in the northern hemisphere, and unless he was on a perpetually snow capped peak he had to be in the winter zone of the planet. That was his only clue as to his location.

He could accept dying in Sanc where once Peacecrafts had been warriors and understood to effect change one must, on occasion, be brutal. The people of six or seven hundred years ago would have understood, but not these modern generations. Did no one study history any more?

Treize certainly had.

Ah, the building was shaking, vibrating to the force of the wind. If there had been a window in his line of sight he might have tried to move, just to see if he could see anything of the outside world. One last glimpse of sky perhaps.

Was that light? Were his eyes open? The building was shuddering violently about him and there was a noise that suggested the old structure would fall down around his ears. Perhaps he should hope it would, at least the waiting would be done.

Still, it could not be long now.

He was tired. So tired.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	2. Chapter 2

Bishi Pile Challenge: Major challenge response to Bad Night and Rescue, minor to Wind. Word count: 2417

Series: Friends

Author: Karina

Pairings: 2+6

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts. Aussie spelling and unbetaed.

Chapter 2

//I have to be fucking crazy.//

They had looked at him as though he had three green scaled heads and asked them to clean his fangs for him. He could, after fighting the stick for so long, understand their look. He had to be crazy to dare the air currents in the back hills. His shoulders ached, his hands screamed at him for relief and his eyes were strained from peering through the darkness and snow. Still he clung to the stick and kept the chopper in the air.

Why?

He could no more answer now than when they asked it. It was not just his friends who had asked him what he thought he was doing.

_"Looking to be a glory jockey yet again, Maxwell?" _

It was not that. Contrary to popular belief he was not out for glory but to save a man's life. If the tip off was accurate there was a man nearby who deserved more than to die in the middle of nowhere.

Christ, Marquise had been a soldier, one of the best. An elite and, except for those brief days of apparent insanity, he had had honour.

In the war everyone had had moments of insanity, though admittedly Marquise's mad moment had topped everyone else's.

_ "You don't even know the man, Maxwell. What do you think you can accomplish other than to plaster yourself all over the countryside? He is not worth your life. Wait for the storm to abate." _

He should have. It was only common sense and he admitted taking off into this storm was rank stupidity. He really should have waited for the storm to pass but something, some voice buried deep inside, would not shut up. It had nagged at him to get off his duff and get in a chopper and go get the man.

It was the same voice that urged him even now, denying him permission to land and wait out the worst of the weather.

_"Why do you want to go in there, into that blizzard, and get yourself killed?"_

Heero had glared out of the window of the hotel room they had been meeting in when the tip off had come in. Watching the clouds building up over the distant mountains. The same mountains the coordinates in the email claimed Milliardo Peacecraft was confined within.

_"If he is up in the foothills he will have to wait for the storm to abate."_

How could he have explained to them what he could not explain to himself? He had 'that' feeling and he had learned long ago not to ignore it.

No one seemed in a hurry to find the victim.

Peacecraft appeared to be unpopular. Rather an understatement actually.

His self appointed rescue mission was probably going to get him killed, but such instances had happened before. He had taken on seemingly impossible missions and thought it would kill him to answer the unspoken voice. Despite the odds he was alive to this day… though maybe not for much longer.

//Make up your mind, Maxwell. Are you going to live or die today?//

He would be the one who needed rescuing the way things were going. At least it was not likely to be Marquise doing the rescuing. That would be just plain embarrassing. His friends could call him all kinds of fool if they wanted to, but he was determined to get this rescue done.

It was Quatre who had decided the issue.

Chang had called him an idiot and refused to sign out a Preventer chopper, citing the airfield was shut down because of the incoming blizzard. He was not about to risk a multi million credit piece of equipment because he could not wait out a storm.

_"Can't you tell a hoax when you see one?"_

Heero had muttered 'baka' and stalked out of the room, refusing to listen to him, asking him why he should chance his life for Marquise who was undoubtedly at his hideaway reading a book and sipping red wine.

_"There is a problem with communication, yes, but not because of some nefarious scheme. Because of the weather."_

He had not understood Hero's reaction. He had thought Marquise and Yuy had more of an understanding and Heero would back him in his attempt to find the man. He had even hoped Heero would come with him; the man was dating Marquise's sister, after all.

Trowa had snorted when he had looked to him and cited the weather forecast, stating he had not survived the war and half a hundred mercenary fights to end his days as a smear in the foothills of Sanc. He had gone so far as to practically beg Trowa, unwilling to beg the other two, but to no avail. Trowa had waved the latest weather report at him and followed Heero from the room.

Which left Quatre, the billionaire businessman, playboy extraordinaire and Duo's oldest friend amid the group. Quatre technically had little to do with Preventers or fighting now that peace was established. Winner had made a place for himself in another world, the world of big business and high society; dabbling in politics and moving in the same circles as Relena.

He had sighed, not even dared to look at Quatre who had stood at the window watching the oncoming blizzard descend upon New Port City.

_"I have a helicopter you can use. It has emergency medical supplies on board and survival gear." _

"What?" He found it hard to believe he heard the quiet voice offering him the means to effect a rescue.

Quatre turned from the window, his hands cupped before his chest, near the vicinity of his heart. _"I have a chopper you can use. He's alive, but I don't know for how much longer."_

His intense blue eyes had been granite cold and seemed to be looking inward and Duo doubted Quatre had actually seen him standing so near with a dumbfounded look on his face.

_"It will be a bad night, Duo and any normal pilot would not consider stepping outside, let alone try to fly in this. You are no normal pilot."_

He had never scoffed at Quatre's 'Space Heart', not when he had something of his own oddity that drove him to do wild things. He had never mentioned his own awkward feelings that powered some of his more extreme eccentricities, and had led to him having the reputation of a glory hunter. No one would understand who did not himself share the same drive.

He had not told anyone, least of all Quatre, but somehow his friend knew.

_"I can feel what you feel. I can feel it calling you."_ Blue eyes had softened_. "You are right, you have to go." _

He still did not believe Winner had provided him with the means to fly this rescue. He had been friends with Quatre since the war and despite the great difference in their pasts they had just seemed to click, understanding each other in a manner the others could not. It was odd to say the least, but Duo was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He took the offer.

_"I can not come with you. I would come if I could, but I am supposed to be in a meeting in thirty minutes with the trade delegation from L2. I promised you I would help make a difference on L2 and I will keep my promise. No matter what happens."_

Quatre thought he might die.

It had been obvious with his parting comment. Quatre sought to assure him their long talks about his growing years and his life on the streets of L2 had not been forgotten. He could trust Quatre to make a difference, that was why Quatre had taken Winner Enterprises in hand and dabbled so much in politics.

Quatre kept his promises.

It was a pity others were not so honourable.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, threatening to drip into his eyes. He was freezing, the heaters barely able to keep the temperature tolerable but he was sweating too. It was a solid, reliable craft but it fought him every inch of the way.

A beep drew his attention to a flashing red light. Afraid the chopper would go down he breathed a sigh of relief on seeing it was the global positioning system informing him he had reached the programmed coordinates.

If the tip off was wrong he was a dead man.

He might be anyway.

According to his radar and confirmed by his map, there was a wooded ridge behind the hut which cut the wind and made the landing far less hazardous than he had been expecting. He could see the hut, a darker shadow in the wind swept night. It was a large clearing, far larger than he had expected.

Peering out at the wind blasted night lit by the powerful lights of the chopper, Duo could tell one thing. Someone had picked the spot for ease of access from the air. He was sure he was not on a wild goose chase.

It gave him a bad feeling. It made him feel like a sitting duck. He might have been lured here and be a target. It was not impossible, but how would anyone know it would be he who came out after Marquise?

Why would any of the Gundam pilots come out after the man who had been their enemy?

It was easy enough to guess why Marquise had been taken. The world hated the man who had threatened to blow them all to kingdom come. He could not name a single individual who gave a fig for the man, even Noin had turned on him. Relena felt a sense of responsibility, but no real caring that he could tell. If there was a single individual in the world that everyone loved to hate, it had to be Zechs Marquise.

He locked down the rotors, cutting out the engines and listened to the howl of the wind and the moaning of the trees. It was a bad night and there was no let up in sight. The forecast had suggested another day of this weather before there was any hope of a change. He might be trapped here and he might, or not, be alone.

Was Marquise in that hut?

It was hard to tell how intact the building was. There was little light beyond the chopper and looking at the tempest outside he wondered that there was light at all. The storm itself seemed to generate the light but it would be enough to find his way to the hut, though not enough to see by once he entered. That was alright, it would keep his hands free of the need to use a torch until he reached the cabin.

He should be angry at himself for coming here. He should be furious at his friends for NOT being with him.

It hurt, actually. Their refusal to come with him hurt, but he had to be fair. Why should they throw away their lives on a feeling? They didn't even know he had these feelings and was prone to act on them. It was not as though he was Quatre, for God's sake. Quatre was known for his empathy and they tended to follow his lead without argument. He was not Quatre.

He was the salvage man; the junkman.

He was thinking of going back to the Sweepers, not joining Preventer as Chang and Yuy seemed to think.

Quatre would be angry with him if he did.

The junkyard was making enough to see Hilde get by, but he was not interested in it. He had dreamed one day of settling down but it had soured, and it was no fault of Hilde's. He had not known what he wanted and he still didn't, but he knew it was not sitting on L2 moving his junk from one side of the yard to the other.

Bored as he was being a junkman, even a reasonably successful one, he did not want to rearm and save the world… again. At least not until he had tried something else. Being a Sweeper might be what he needed and Howard had agreed to give him a chance to find out.

He thrust himself from his seat and wriggled his way along the narrow cockpit into the bulk of the chopper. It was a reasonable sized craft and heavy enough to survive the flight in. He would be sorry to hand her back to Quatre when he returned from this mission, and he refused to acknowledge the traitorous 'IF' that sprang to mind.

He was a survivor and he was not going to die on a lonely mountainside in a snow storm. It was a change from the slums of L2 and it might be a better way to die than coughing out his life in a garbage heap. The mountains, even storm wracked, were far prettier than L2.

He struggled to secure the survival pack to the medical pack and gave up in disgust, but he was not inclined to make more than one trip. If the man was alive in the hut he was not about to make him wait for attention while he gathered the gear to make him comfortable.

He had no idea what he was about to face. Marquise might be relaxing in front of a blazing fire on the far side of the world for all he knew. If the tip off was valid he might find the man dead on the floor from cold or strung up by his balls. He might have been shot and if he somehow survived to this point in time, he would probably need blood.

Quatre's chopper came equipped with enough medical supplies it put an ambulance to shame. That was handy and there were even ration packs that heated themselves in the survival pack. He could have something hot to eat after he dealt with whatever needed dealing with. He grabbed the digital camera, though he hoped he would not be taking crime scene photographs. He was not a Preventer but he knew what would be required if he was too late.

He would do the full inventory when he had the opportunity but for now, grabbing everything and moving seemed best. Urgency beat at him and he could not escape it. He had to move and move now.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	3. Chapter 3

Bishi Pile Challenge: Major challenge response to Bad Night, Falling, minor response to Wind and Rescue. Word count: 1,582

Series: Friends

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 3

Damn, he was not going to make the hut gracefully.

He spat snow from his mouth and struggled to his feet; no one was present to watch his prat falls. He had fallen three times thus far and he was only a few steps from the helicopter. Falling seemed to be all he could do.

The wind was far worse than he expected and this was within the relative shelter of the ridge. How had he managed to get this far? The chopper should have been so much debris scattered over a kilometre or two of foothills. He really should be a smear on the countryside of Sanc.

His feet felt numb and it was still a ways to the hut. What he could see of the building suggested the lightest touch would send it crumbling into ruin, but it stood against the wind where he could not retain his footing. The survival pack and medical kit helped anchor him but tended to catch the wind and throw him off balance. Mixed blessings seemed to be the order of the day.

His lungs ached from the intense cold and despite the thermal underwear and arctic gear he wore, he felt he was freezing. He would give anything to be back in the chopper which had felt tropical in comparison to this inhospitable world. No living breathing animal would be stupid enough to be out in this weather. No animal other than a foolish human with a hero complex.

//It's not for the glory.//

It would help if he could explain what it was that drove him to be out in this foul weather. Hell, they had no confirmation Marquise was even missing. The man was a positive recluse and they had been unable to contact him. Duo had taken that to mean the tip off was valid where more sensible heads pleaded caution.

He would probably never be able to explain satisfactorily to anyone why he did what he did. The 'feelings' that drove him were something he considered private. It was how he had become a Gundam Pilot, following the same gut feeling to go somewhere at a particular time. If he had ignored it then what might he have become in this life?

He measured his length in another drift, coming up spitting snow and pawing at his face with heavily gloved hands. Fishing in the drift he found the gear he had dropped and struggled to his feet. Only a little further and he could escape the wind; just a little further and he would have shelter.

One step, then another and another. One foot forward, the other… again. Again.

He staggered as a gust threatened to lift him from his feet and clutched the gear close to him, hugging it to increase his weight and hunching over to present a smaller target for the wind. There was the veranda post just ahead. A few more steps and he would have something solid over his head. A couple more and he would gain the shelter of the room.

//If not have it on my head the way it creaks.//

The hut was better than nothing and since his other choice was nothing, it would do. He was not about to turn around and slog his way back to the chopper. Not without taking a rest first.

He fished around at his waist for the torch as he clumped onto the porch, barely saving himself another fall as his boots slid on packed ice. Dropping the gear and grasping the support post he clung on for dear life, cringing as the post creaked alarmingly.

//You better be alive, Marquise or I am going to shoot you for the trouble you have put me through.//

Carefully he eased forward, scowling at the open door. The wind was blowing at an angle and the cabin seemed to eat the torchlight. He staggered at a particularly savage blast of wind and directed the torch beam around the surprisingly large room.

Were those footsteps in the snow piled up inside the door? Just on the edge of the torch beam, away from the immediate exposure to the elements there were a series of depressions in the snow.

Someone had been here.

It was the first tangible evidence he had he was not following a phantom. The tip off might still be a lie, a distraction from what had really occurred, if anything had happened, which might warrant attention from a Gundam Pilot turned Preventer. The tip had arrived as a part of Wu Fei's general Preventer email. Sender unknown, their address untraceable. It might be an attempt to distract Chang from New Port City.

Duo shook his head, disregarding his own thought. No, it was no hoax or attempt to distract a Preventer from protecting the people. He knew, deep down, he was in the right place; but was he here at the right time?

Stepping further into the room he moved the light around, seeking some evidence of occupation and he found it. A clear trail of footsteps in the lighter snow leading toward a door at the far side of the cabin. Scuff marks suggested whoever had been here had been as prone to falling on their duff as he in the atrocious conditions.

There was not much in the way of snow within those footprints. He could safely assume the tracks had been made recently and he paused, listening for any sound to suggest he had company. The trail suggested either there were multiple people involved or one person had made a number of trips through the rooms.

He was careful to shine the light into every nook and cranny and determined this was the only door leading from the main room into the interior. A large room given the size of the building, dominated by a huge stone hearth. It would be homely, cozy with a fire roaring and a pot of game stew simmering. He could almost see the scene, almost smell the stew, until a waft of freezing air threatened to send him crashing to the ground.

//Damn! I can't afford to break a leg.//

Shuffling seemed safest, not actually lifting his feet from the icy floor. Sliding one foot in front of the other, slowly and carefully, moving closer and closer to the door. It was partially open, swaying in the breeze and Duo wished he had had the presence of mind to shut the outer door behind him. If he could get it to shut, which might involve some digging and breaking of ice from no doubt rusted hinges.

It would have been fractionally warmer, but he was uneasy about this entire set up. If he had to run he preferred an open door at his back. Still, it was not a comfort to know anyone hidden in the woods might approach him unheard.

Neither option was a glowing example of safety under fire. Not that he was literally under fire.

The door was under his gloved fingertips and he pushed gently. It squealed, rusted hinges protesting as it opened. He pushed harder, if anyone was in the room they had to know he was here. He dropped low and slipped, falling on his back and sliding, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

No bullets barked from the room to teach him one last lesson in life. No boogieman leapt from the dark to scream in his face and slit him from groin to throat with a long knife. God, he watched too many classic B grade horror flicks.

Rolling over carefully he sat up and searched for the torch. It rested on his survival pack and he breathed a sigh of relief it had not broken. Sitting in the snow he directed the beam into the room and stared.

"My God. The sick bastard."

He had to be dead.

Marquise was securely bound about his chest and ankles to a chair. Duo suspected his right hand was bound behind his back to the chair, but his left hand was strapped along his thigh, tied across the palm and at mid forearm. Marquise's trousers were soaked in blood from the cut crossing his wrist, the blood glinting wetly in the beam of the torch.

The pale hair was spread out around broad shoulders, a glimmer of moonlight in the dark room. His head was lowered and all Duo could see was the pale mass moving gently in the cold draughts seeping into the room. A frigid blast at his back broke Duo from his horror and got him moving.

First thing was first, though he was certain it was useless. The man had to be dead but he needed to make sure.

He shuffled forward, nudging the survival pack and medical kit with his foot before kneeling beside Marquise. He glanced briefly at the slashed wrist and noted it no longer bled. It was hard to determine how much blood the man had lost.

Duo gripped one wool lined mitt in his teeth and pulled it from his hand, his warm fingers seeking a pulse. Marquise was not shivering and he was icy cold to touch, but Duo gently brushed aside the moon silk hair and felt for a pulse.

"Damn! You tough bastard."

He reached for the survival kit and the thermal blanket. He had not expected to find a pulse… but he had. Weak, slow and faltering, but it was there.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	4. Chapter 4

Bishi Pile Challenge: Major challenge response to Shadow, minor response to Storm and Wind. Word count: 1842

Series: Friends 4/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 4

He chanced one trip to the helicopter in an attempt to send word to Quatre. The level of static screaming from the radio suggested his message had not gone through, but he had sent it three times in hope Quatre would receive the assurance he was alive. Meteorological readings on the choppers instrument panel had reached the point where he knew to attempt to fly would be sheerest folly. His only means of communication and transport was not to be placed at further risk.

He had already pushed his luck on simply reaching this place alive.

Locking the chopper down as best he could he stumbled back to the hut, breath sobbing in his aching lungs. Shadows danced in the eerie light filtering through the storm. He supposed the odd radiance sending shudders up his spine had something to do with the full moon hidden by the cloud cover. He might have preferred pitch darkness to this eerie glow.

Was that something moving through the trees near the cabin?

The beam of his torch was next to useless given the snowfall. Everything looked surreal, otherworldly. It was stupid but his skin crawled and it was not the cold that sent his eyes flashing to every dark shadow. Colony bred child that he was, this blizzard was beyond his knowledge.

He fought his way forward, keyed and hyper-aware of every creak, groan and moan from the forest. The wind hurled him to his knees more than once, and it was a relief when he stumbled into the relative safety of the hut.

Placing the equipment garnered from the helicopter he felt might best serve his enforced stay in the hut on the floor, he grasped the hammer and began to break the ice encasing the door. The work was physically demanding enough to induce sweating and he huffed as he leaned on the door, resting a moment before doggedly resuming. He continued to hack at the thick ice sealing the door to the floor, until he had broken and cleared sufficient to drag the door shut. For a long minute he stood panting, gasping in relief from the shelter afforded by closing out much of the wind. Cracked and warped as the door was it saved him from seeing movement in every shadow amid the moaning trees.

There was too much to do for him to rest. Dragging his carefully chosen equipment into the back room he crawled into the survival tent erected in the centre of the smaller room, and focused his attention on his patient. He had not expected Marquise to have moved, but he could not help the flash of disappointment and worry at finding the man exactly as he had left him. A quick tug at a heavy glove and he pressed fingers to his throat and Duo was assured there was still life.

He had forced himself not to release Marquise immediately. Precious seconds had been used to find the digital camera in his packs and snap a few graphic shots. There would be an investigation and he needed evidence of the crime. He had checked the slashed wrist to ensure there was no bleeding and decided Marquise owed his life to the cold slowing down his heart rate. Bundling the man up in a thermal blanket he had turned to make his preparations before releasing Marquise from his bonds.

Duo had hastily erected the tent, blessing the wonders of modern technology that made it a simple task. It almost erected itself and he unpacked the sleeping bag, spreading it open ready to receive Marquise. He had tested for a pulse again, to be certain it was not merely wishful thinking on his part and had found it, thready and ragged, but definitely present. With a breath of relief he settled down to free Marquise of his restraints.

His knife had made short work of the ropes and with care, in case the blood soaked trousers hid some other injury, Duo had eased him onto the sleeping bag. Kicking aside the last of the ropes he had cut the clothing from the still body and finally rolled him into the centre of the sleeping bag after a second, more thorough examination. Spreading the thermal blanket over him Duo had zipped up the sleeping bag and taken the chance to rest for a few minutes.

He had needed to warm Marquise and clean and bind his slashed wrist, but he opted to first set up an intravenous drip. Dragging Marquise, sleeping bag and all, into the tent had not been easy; the man outweighed him by at least his own weight again. He had set the intravenous drip up and tied the bag to a support strut of the tent to keep it elevated.

Duo was a fair field medic and knew the basics of what needed doing. Provided Marquise had not been bled dry, which he obviously had been spared by the cold, it would be the cold itself that was the primary danger. He needed to raise the man's body temperature slowly but steadily, and the sleeping bag and thermal blanket would begin to do just that.

Using a saline solution he had washed out the slashed wrist, noting the depth of the wound before carefully salving it with antiseptic cream and binding it firmly. Who ever had cut him had intended it to be a slow bleed out, but the cold had saved Marquise that fate. All Duo had been able to do was firmly bind the wound until a doctor could attend to him and then Duo had tackled a return trip to the helicopter in a bid to remove more supplies and send word of the success of his mission.

Now, after returning from securing the helicopter supplies in hand, he could only shake his head at the unconscious man who stubbornly refused to die.

"You are one tough bastard."

He dragged the packs into the tent, listening to the protesting creaks of the hut blasted by the wind. He had had enough wind and snow to last him a lifetime, but at least he did not need to return to the helicopter. He had everything he needed with him to survive. Provided the hut remained standing.

"Well, you'll do for the moment. Long enough for me to get some hot soup into me."

The ration packs were military issue and in sealed bags containing heating units. A vigorous shake and crack of the heating pack initiated the chemical reaction and in seconds he had the pack open and was savouring a healthy fog of aromatic steam.

"Vegetable and beef soup." He commented, pouring the contents into a mug and wrapped his hands, now free of both gloves, around the welcome heat. "Yummy. Probably tastes like liquid cardboard."

He rested the torch on Marquise's chest along with the empty bag and his gloves as he breathed in the aroma and slurped noisily, relishing the heat.

"Taste ain't everything." He considered the mug and sighed. "But it sure as hell would help."

Taking his time savouring the heat, if not the flavour, he flicked his eyes to the man he was using as a table and sighed.

//Now what?//

Tough though Marquise had proven himself, Duo was uncertain he could bring him through this crisis period. The pressure beating at him to act, which had brought him out here into the foothills of Sanc, had subsided as he had struggled to get the man into the tent. He had done what he could, as speedily as he could, and he could only hope the man had the will to survive. There was not much else he could do to assist him.

//Surviving this long I guess he has to have one hell of a survival instinct. Damn strong bastard too.//

Deciding he needed more light and every bit of heat would be a comfort, he reached for the oil lantern, primed and lit it. After a moments consideration he hung it over his patient from a roof stay, hoping escaping heat would be of benefit and flicked the battery torch off. Better to save that for excursions beyond the tent.

He sighed and rubbed at his cold nose, watching the eerie play of light and darkness. He might have shut the door, but the cabin was full of draughts, and the tent shuddered and rippled about him.

What to do, he mused, listening to the wind howl, and his eyes drifted to his patient.

Though he had fought against Marquise in the war, and with him at the end of the Barton Invasion, Duo had not met Marquise on a personal basis before. While working to save his life Marquise had been a body requiring attention, not a living breathing person, and Duo, purely in the interests of occupying his time studied the pale face, brushing aside heavy locks of moonlight hair.

//Handsome devil.//

Marquise was probably the best looking man he had had the pleasure of viewing. He had had occasion during the war to see that face plastered on view screens and public televisions, and the vulnerability he saw now made the man more human. The nobility was still there, though the diamond hardness present when Marquise had served White Fang was gone. Once the golden boy of Oz, Kushrenada's right hand man… or was that left hand? Une had been right up there, thick as thieves with the pair of them.

As Prince he had died as a child; died later for Oz and then a third time with White Fang, only to be resurrected to serve Preventers.

"You are sure one hard bastard to kill."

He was not pretty, Duo decided and he prided himself on being a connoisseur of beauty, be it male or female. Marquise was neither pretty nor handsome in the conventional sense. Even unconscious there was no softness about that face, but there was a strength and firmness which made him remarkable. He was striking to look at and his current lack of awareness did noting to detract from his good looks.

"I guess Alexander the Great must have looked like you."

Awake and aware, in an unguarded moment when his defences were down, he would undoubtedly shine.

"I'd say you got the bulk of the good looks in the family. Relena's pretty enough, but you're a little more than just pretty."

Sighing Duo pulled his braid from the protection of his jacket and ran the tip over his chilled cheek. He was talking to a man barely alive, and given the subject matter it was as well he was unconscious. Duo sipped his soup and blew on his hands, deciding he would be pulling on those gloves again as soon as possible. It was going to be a long night and if the storm did not let up, it was going to be an even longer day.

"Don't you go dying on me. Not after I've come all this way to pull your sorry butt out of the ice."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	5. Chapter 5

Bishi Pile Challenge: Major challenge response to Cobwebs, Hair and The Longest Day. Minor response to Wind and Bad Night. Word count: 3306

Series: Friends 5/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 5

"I wonder how spiders survive such weather?"

The howling wailed eerily and Duo suppressed a shiver. Just listening to the wind seemed to lower his temperature to uncomfortable levels.

"Maybe it takes something like this to make a person notice the smaller mysteries of life."

Duo knelt in the entrance to the tent, torch raised to illuminate the ceiling of the room. Cobwebs spanned the ceiling from corner to corner, hanging in broken strands, waving in draughts penetrating the hut. Broken and tattered victims to the human invasion of their isolated realm, the webs might have been restless ghosts in the darkness. While there were plenty of spider webs in evidence there was a noted dearth of actual Spiders.

Duo sighed as he withdrew into the tent and zipped the flap. Settling back to his place beside the unconscious man he wondered if screaming at the top of his lungs would stir Marquise to wakefulness.

He was bored.

He was so bored he was beginning to frighten himself.

He checked the intravenous drip and moved on to check his patient had a pulse.

"Sucks to be trapped here in this weather, Man. Can't even play a vid game."

He was bored and desperate to distract himself and finding anything to talk to Marquise about, even though he knew there would be no answer. He had nattered on about a hole in his best pair of socks and the artistic darning he had accomplished to retain the use of them. He had commented on the last seven meals he had eaten, the amount of washing powder on the market now containing enzymes, and how unfair it was his preferred band of powder had changed to an enzyme based formula. He had discovered he was susceptible to being eaten by the enzymes in washing powder. Not even excessive rinsing of his clothes after determining what it was giving him a rash had stopped the allergic reaction.

Just talking about the rash set him to scratching and he had decided a change of subject was in order.

He had broached the matter of DeathScythe's penchant for pulling right when submerged in water. He had smiled when he thought of his mobile suit, knowing the other man, had he been awake, would understand his longing for what had been a friend. Most people saw only a robotic exo-suit, though calling DeathSythe that was hardly doing justice to the mechanics of the Mobile Suit. Another elite pilot could understand just what a suit such as the Gundam meant to him.

Marquise would understand. They were an elite group, the men and few women who had piloted Mobile Suits. Be they Alliance, Oz, Oz Specials or rebels, only the best had found themselves in the cockpit of multi million credit mechanical wonders.

He missed DeathScythe.

Thinking of the suit had brought to mind a memory he duly shared with Marquise, unconcerned the man was unconscious.

The cobwebs strewn about the building had brought the memory of the spider he had found spinning a web in the cockpit. It was an odd thing to remember, given all he had survived with his mechanical friend, that one little brown spider he had given short shrift to for daring to invade his territory. It was the memory of the small brown creature which had caused him to break the seal on the tent and stare at the webs.

Where did spiders go when the weather turned this bitter?

"If there was room enough for me to fit, and it was warm, I'd be inclined to join them." He stretched slowly and blessed his thermal underwear without which he would surely be a Popsicle.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been this cold before. That's saying something because space is cold, much colder than Earth. You can't get much colder than absolutely nothing, you know, and that is what space is… nothing. An abundance of nothing."

He spoke directly to Marquise, rubbing his gloved hands together vigorously in an attempt to gain a little warmth.

"Well, not quite true, I guess. There are planets in space; asteroids and dust floating around. There are dozens of moons and one should not forget the colonies."

Isolated fully self contained habitats designed to preserve the human species and there were gases and debris from the very active Sun that heated this world. Millions of people lived their lives completely unaware of the little dramas in the cosmic order which could wipe them out with little warning.

Duo scratched at his chin. "Well, damn, where did that come from? I guess that exhausts that conversation. I don't think either of us is up to a heavy discussion on the life and times of a Solar Flare."

He was doing it again. Bored out of his brain he was reaching for anything and everything to rescue his sanity. Fingers flicked against his knee in rapid succession, a growing beat; a nervous mannerism he had not used for years. It was a carry over from his days on the streets of L2 and with a great effort he planted his hands firmly on his knees.

"Will you hurry up and wake up and talk to me, damn it?"

It was barely three minutes before Duo gave up trying to keep his hands still. He found himself flicking his braid about the tent, using it in a manner reminiscent of fly fishing until that too bored him, a process which took only a few minutes. The night was dragging by and if not for his watch he might have thought it daylight already beyond their shelter. Minutes crept like hours and the hands of his watch barely moved.

"You are not the talkative sort, Marquise, but you sure are pretty to look at. Which is just as well because the walls of this tent are damn boring."

Silence but for howling wind, he sighed and found his fingers plucking at the tie on the end of his braid.

"Sooo, then… What are we going to talk about to while away the hours, hmm?"

His fingers crept across his knee to finger the gossamer fine strands of pale hair resting within easy reach of him.

"What shampoo do you use? Bet you go through loads of conditioner. I do. I always use more conditioner than shampoo."

His fingers combed experimentally through the long pale mane and he ran the strands over his sensitive fingertips, feeling for any remaining residue of the conditioner used.

"You rinse well. What kind of brush do you use?"

Not waiting for an answer and certainly not expecting to get one, Duo proceeded to gather up a long hank of hair, bending forward to examine the heavy lock in the poor lighting.

"Your hair is finer than mine to feel. Lighter, but you have so much of it."

He gathered up the silver strands tinted gold by the lantern and allowed it to slip between his fingers, watching it fall in a constant flowing cascade.

"Very fine. Ever had a problem with fly away hair? Sure you have. And I bet you have a frizz problem. Do damp days get your hair frizzy? I know what bad hair days are like. Man, do I know what a bad hair day is!"

Duo sighed and sat back. "You are a veritable font of wisdom on hair care. You regularly trim your ends too; no sign of split ends. Do you ever gel? Trowa gels all the time and I want to know what secret formula he uses. Did you know not even the g forces in lift off from Earth flatten that forelock of his? Makes me want to try bouncing things off it to see how far they will rebound."

Duo sighed and wondered if it was too soon to make himself another soup pack. He had limited hot packs and he really should conserve them. The chopper had been equipped with sufficient survival rations for a crew of five to last three days, but given he was locked in by a mountain blizzard he was not inclined to waste the resource. Blizzards here had been known to blow for a week or more.

He wished he was not alone in the night with the unconscious man. If Trowa at least had accompanied him… Quatre was the only one who knew he had come. Given the extreme weather conditions and their refusal to head into the blizzard, he felt sure the others would have expected him to back down.

He would need to ensure no one blamed Quatre for his decision. Trowa at least of the three might have a few harsh words to say to Quatre for providing him with the means to accomplish this rescue.

"Not that any of them seem to care too much about what I do. I'm pretty much a wild card. I do what I want, when I want, and to hell with what anyone says. That's why I'm not so keen on being a Preventer. Being this independent has its perks, but it sure as hell has its downside."

Sitting and twiddling his thumbs had never been a favourite pastime. The exception had been when he had had his Gundam. He had liked to sit quietly in Scythe and just float in space, completely unseen.

"I liked that, you know? Sitting in the darkness, with only life support and stealth mode active. Seemed someone was always after me and I got no down time unless I went into space and hid. G was mad as hell with me when I sat outside the resource satellite for fifteen hours straight once. Hell, I can't even recall what I was in a snit about."

He ran his braid slowly through the fingers of his right hand, considering the memory which seemed to belong to another person in another lifetime.

"Can't have been too important if I can't remember what it was. You know, contrary to popular belief I don't like to talk just to hear the sound of my own voice. I keep hoping I will get an intelligent answer. You know something a bit different to 'baka', 'shut up, Maxwell' or 'hnnn'. "

Duo sighed and wound his braid around his hand before unwinding it only to wind it again.

"Real talkative bunch, the other pilots. Half the time Trowa just looks at me and Chang is inclined to walk out or threaten to cut off my braid if I don't shut up."

He snorted softly and unwound his hair, fingering the long rope.

"What's with his thing about my hair, anyway? They're a great bunch of guys in a tight spot but sometimes I think they are socially challenged to the point of being… well… Ah hell. Quatre doesn't tell me to shut up; he understands about 'feelings' too. He has them all the time. Not your everyday run of the mill feelings, you understand, but the sort that brought me out here chasing down your sorry butt."

The wind howled and the hut creaked alarmingly and Duo shuddered, wishing Marquise was conscious so he need not feel so alone. Natural weather was simply beyond his experience.

"He's running that multi billion credit monster called Winner Enterprises so I don't see him nearly as much as I would like. He's the richest man in the Earth Sphere… if he's not he must be just about at the top of the list. He works the most incredibly long hours and he's regained most of the company after it was divided up during the war. That happened after his dad died."

He scowled, clenching his hands into fists. "That was a bad business. People can be so fickle. They turned on his dad and sucked up to Oz. Why do people only ever see what they want to see, and not what is really in front of them?"

Duo glared at the still form beneath the lantern, willing him to at least twitch.

"Hope I'm not boring you. This has so got to be the longest day I've ever lived through and let me tell you, I've lived through a lot of long days. Some days on L2 seemed to go on forever, but at least I wasn't freezing my arse off. Even the streets of L2 were warmer than this."

Picking up the empty cup resting on Marquise chest, Duo rolled it from hand to hand before setting it on the floor beside him. Playing with the tail of his braid for a few minutes and then a round of blowing at his ragged fringe occupied a few more seconds.

The silence grated on his nerves. The wind howled and the shack rattled and he could hear the ice coating the structure cracking.

"I have got to talk to someone or I'll go bonkers, honest. Sorry, but you are it. I can keep quiet, in fact I like to be quiet, but I don't have a reputation for it. Quite the contrary. They all think I'm a chatterbox, that I don't know when to shut up and that it is impossible for me to go two minutes without saying something. Don't know what gives them that impression."

He shivered at a particularly threatening crack from beyond the shelter of the tent.

"Sorry for bending your ear, I just don't like storms. I think it's the wind. We don't have real weather on the colonies. Every now and then on L2 the climate control would break down and all sorts of weird things would happen. It would even snow sometimes, because the environmental unit would get clogged with pollution and it could take days to fix. It wasn't as cold as this though, but in the slums a lot of us died. That was just par for the course."

He shivered wishing the building had not looked so ramshackle. He would feel safer if he could be sure the roof was not about to fall on him.

"If there was wind on the colonies it was likely to mean a hull breach and we could be sucked out into space. Feel a breeze on your face and if you are colony born you tend to look for the closest shelter. Maybe that is why I have this thing about wind. Not exactly fear, you understand, just… wariness. The first real storm I lived through on Earth frightened shit out of me. Living on a planet takes some getting used to, but I guess its okay. At least a wind does not mean you are going to eat space. It's better than L2's back streets. Mind you, Earth's cities have their back streets."

He was getting dry in the throat and sighed. He would end up talking himself hoarse.

"I can hide in back streets, no matter where I am. They feel like home. I hated it, you know, but I can't get them out of my head… or my blood. I was a street rat, but I don't know what I am now. I don't remember anything before the streets and Solo, but I know there was more. I sometimes have this flash of hair. It's like mine but there is like a scent I remember… it was my mum. Don't laugh, I can't help it. It is sort of nice to know I had a mother. Gives me warm fuzzies."

He stared at his watch face, knowing beyond the hut it would be approaching dawn. From the howl of the wind there would be no let up in the storm, and all he could do was hope the snow did not bury the helicopter.

"I don't have a lot of warm fuzzy moments to remember, so I treasure the few I do recall. Like when I would sit in Scythe and let the silence fill me. It would either quiet the nagging feeling that said I had to be somewhere, or make it clearer so I could get it done and be free of it. I had other feelings than the one that got my butt out here to rescue you. Some were good, others bad… real bad. I answer the feeling when it comes because it's not usually so bad if I respond quickly."

Duo shivered and pulled his arms tight to his chest, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder as he remembered past occasions when he had answered the incessant feeling. He did not want to remember some of those instances, and he had discovered it helped to talk to Quatre.

"I used to like sitting in Scythe. Not just in space, but here on Earth too. I'd find a quiet place somewhere; hide my buddy and just sit there, listening to the silence. Scythe always listened if I had anything to say, but he understood the silence too. Never judged me and found me wanting, you know? Scythe was my buddy. I trusted him. Was Tallgeese a he or a she to you? Scythe was a he, I'm sure of that. Howard says all mechanicals are she, but Scythe was definitely a he. What about Epyon?"

Marquise did not so much as twitch, but Duo felt he had gained the unconscious man's attention. Something seemed a little different and he could not put his finger on what, but he sucked in a deep breath. Someone had told him once that an unconscious or comatose patient could hear everything said to them, and often it was the voice that could draw them back. If he was getting through to Marquise, that was good.

"That was a wicked scary bitch of a machine. Heero won't talk about flying Epyon. He's not easy to spook, you know, but Epyon spooked him. It seemed alive whenever I saw it. I could always feel Deathscythe and he seemed alive to me. He felt strong and warm and safe and don't you go thinking I'm a wuss because I said that. It is true, Scythe felt like… my best friend. Like… home."

He sighed. It was as close to describing what he had felt for the Gundam as he could possibly put into words. DeathScythe had never been just a matter of circuits and mechanics to him.

"What did Epyon feel like to you? I tested the Zero system once, you know? Man; that was so not cool. How Heero could use it… I still have nightmares about the test. I refused to use it, but when you are a prisoner you sure as hell don't have much of a say in it. I'm glad it was never installed in Scythe. Zero sent Quatre around the twist and I felt like it was eating into my brain."

He scowled at the flickering light of the lantern and reached to adjust the wick.

"It doesn't make me a wimp, you know. Just sensible. I don't like anyone or anything messing with my head, and I feel the heebie-jeebies just thinking about Zero. There are days I can feel it inside my head, the cold chill and the weirdness that hit me just before the visions started."

He rubbed his hands together slowly, staring into nothing and feeling the creeping tendrils yet again. If he slept he would have nightmares of the Zero system, and suddenly he wanted to stay awake.

"It lied, you know? Zero could show mathematical probability equations and display them as visions formulated through its AI unit. Machine intelligence can not respond as accurately as human intelligence to a given set of circumstances. The day a machine decides it knows more than I do about surviving, is the day I crawl in a hole and die. Zero should never have been built. It lied and so did Epyon."

"No. Truth." The rasping whisper seemed loud in the confines of the tent.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	6. Chapter 6

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Tradition and Murder. Minor response to Bad Night, Shadows and Wind. Word count: 2368

Series: Friends

Author: Karina

Pairings:Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 6

"You tough son of a bitch, I thought for sure you'd cark it."

One pale eyebrow lifted slightly and intense blue eyes studied him from the warm nest of the sleeping bag. Marquise was shivering and Duo determined that was good and checked his pulse, noting the strong regular heartbeat. It seemed Marquise was a hard man to kill and, despite his condition and proximity to death, he seemed alert enough.

"I'll get you some warm soup; that should help bring your temperature up." Duo sat back and rummaged in his packs for a meal pack.

"Where?"

The dry and painful sounding rasp of his voice made Duo wince, and he busied himself prepping the self heating ration pack. Chicken broth, he noted, just what everyone said mothers proclaimed to be the best medicine for every ailment known to mankind.

"I think it best we let this cool down a bit before you have some. Don't want to cause more problems by giving you something you are not yet ready to handle. Might be a bit of a shock to your system, to have something really hot just now."

"Where are we?" His deep voice was harsh with disuse, and he looked at the tent over his head with a faint frown.

Duo glanced about him and sighed. "I've set up the tent in some run down hunter's shack to give us protection from the blizzard. At least, I think it is a hunter's shack. We are a fair way into the Sanc highlands; the exact coordinates are stored in the chopper. I'm afraid we are stuck here until the weather improves."

Though he thought it he was not about to actually say they were safe until the shack blew down and killed them both. At the moment that seemed an all too real scenario to joke about. Giving the pack a vigorous shake to ensure the heat was evenly distributed he stripped the seal and poured the contents into his mug.

"Won't take long for this to cool down a bit, I don't think I should get you too warm too quickly, you know?" He felt the need to apologize. "You've proven you are hard to kill, so it would be a shame to spoil your record by moving too quickly."

A soft grunt was his response and he glanced up to find Marquise intent on examining the tent. After a moment those blue eyes focused once more on Duo and that expressive eyebrow twitched upwards.

"Alone?"

Duo swirled the soup in his cup and sighed softly. "Yeah. Just you and me."

"How?"

Tough and stubborn, Duo decided. Unwilling to be in the dark and wanting answers, despite his physical condition. He could only admire the man who, it appeared, would thumb his nose at the spectre of Death yet again.

"How?" He considered the intent gaze for a moment, uncertain as to exactly what Marquise was enquiring about. "How did I get here?" A barely perceptible nod confirmed his guess. "In a chopper. I flew in before the blizzard closed in fully, and I'll fly us out when the weather improves."

"How… did you…know?"

"An anonymous call was received, claiming you were in trouble. Someone was intending to murder you in an out of the way place. There were coordinates included in the message and I took a chance it was not a hoax." Duo glanced around the tent at a particularly loud creak from the cabin and moan of the wind. "They picked a bloody lonely place to do it."

"Why… you?" He winced and Duo guessed the faint movement under the sleeping bag was a reflexive and aborted grab toward his throat

"Why did I come after you?" Duo scratched his head and shrugged, uncertain exactly what to say.

The man had to know he was unpopular and wonder why anyone would place themselves in danger for him. He had nothing against Marquise himself. Duo had tried to put the war behind him and tried not to judge other people.

"Well, someone had to see if it was a hoax or not. Given the weather closing in about all we could do was try ringing your home, but no one answered the vidphone. You were not rostered as being on a mission so it was possible you might be in trouble. The guys will head on over and check out your place as soon as the weather clears."

"You came… alone? Here."

"Yeah. If I'd waited to check your place out I'd not have reached the coordinates before the blizzard closed out the mountains and I'd have found a frozen corpse, wouldn't I? Besides, I'm not exactly renowned for my patience."

"Thanks."

Marquise's voice was barely above a whisper and there was an odd expression in his eyes Duo could not quite identify before he closed them. Marquise was exhausted and likely to drop off to sleep again, but Duo intended to get some nourishment into him before he slept. Deciding the soup would have to be cool enough he moved alongside Marquise and set the cup to one side.

"Hey. No sleeping yet. Drink this first and then you can rest."

Duo assisted him to sit up enough to make drinking possible, propping Marquise against his own lean frame. With one arm curled about broad shoulders to steady him, Duo held the mug in front of his face and watched as one shaking hand tried to rise.

"Nah, forget that. Table manners suck in the wild. You just drink and I'll do the rest. Once you finish this you can sleep. I'm hoping the storm will blow itself out overnight and I can dig the chopper out in the morning. It should take us about two hours to reach New Port City after that, and we can get you to the medics."

Duo was pleasantly surprised he did not have to coax his patient into drinking all the soup. Marquise was pliant in his grasp and obedient. Watching him Duo thought he was listening to the storm more than paying attention to what he was drinking. With the cup emptied Duo set it to one side and gently eased him down, straightening slowly to stare at the side of the tent and watch the shadows play as the lantern rocked gently.

"Did you see who it was?"

Blue eyes opened slowly, a frown wrinkling his brow. Marquise looked more than half asleep, but he shook his head slowly and his eyes revealed his worry. There was someone out there who had gone to a great deal of trouble to murder him, and he was not inclined to think it would be a one off attempt.

"No. Wanted… revenge."

"He was intending to murder you for revenge?" Duo ran a finger along the length of his nose, considering Marquise for a long moment. "Revenge for something specific?"

The snort was amused and accompanied by a wince of pain. "Take your pick." The broth had moistened his throat and made talking easier, though he seemed to be tiring fast. "No…shortage… of reasons."

Duo sighed and sat back, listening to the creaks, groans and the howl of the wind. He was becoming worried about the safety of the cabin and if it could hold against the fury of the weather. The last thing he needed was for their shelter to collapse on them.

"The storm's getting worse from the sound of it."

"Mmm."

Not quite asleep then, Duo decided, watching the slowly relaxing face. It would not be long before Marquise drifted off, and no doubt the next time he awoke he would have to see to toileting facilities. They were professional agents who had been in hairy situations before that required bodily functions be catered to under duress. It would not be a problem, as it might have been had one of them been a raw recruit.

"I was hoping the ridge backing the cabin would give us a bit more protection than it appears to be giving us. I guess the wind direction must have shifted a bit."

Again a tiny furrow appeared on Marquise's brow, and he made a visible effort to stir himself. "Ridge? There is a ridge… behind the cabin?"

"Yeah. There is a low cliff behind the cabin. The ridge runs along the back and curves around to the east. It would be a pretty spot I'd say, once the storm lets up. I'd like to enjoy it under different circumstances."

"In Sanc?"

Marquise seemed to be trying to stir himself, making an effort to resist the sleep his body was insisting on. Duo frowned, that annoying pressure which had drawn him here was making a comeback. He had the uncomfortable feeling it was a warning about the storm.

He had the distinct 'feeling' they were in trouble.

"Yeah. We are in Sanc."

"Back wall… maybe… Check back wall." Marquise was panting softly. "Storage cave."

"A storage cave? I came through the main room of the cabin and saw solid timber walls, a bit draughty, but nothing to suggest any more rooms other than the one we are in now. One door into the cabin and one door into this room, nothing more."

"Old cabin… Really old… might be… storage cave. Traditional design… mean no obvious… door. Look for rope… A hanging rope."

Duo considered his patient for a long moment and rubbed at his chin. "Tradition, huh? It was a quaint local traditional to hide the pantry behind a false wall?"

"Used to be bears… wolves… in Sanc. Long time ago."

Something outside in the night crashed and Duo could not help the reflexive cringe at the sound. Deciding it could not hurt to look for something a little more solid than the ramshackle old building, he eased himself to his knees. Besides, some activity might warm him up a little and Marquise was going nowhere. He'd be asleep in a few minutes anyway and it would give Duo something to occupy himself with.

If there was a storage cave in this ramshackle old building it might be large enough to offer them sturdier shelter. Given the sounds of the blizzard that could only be a good thing.

"Okay. You just rest up and I'll recon the hut."

Marquise seemed to have exhausted his energy and offered no further comment as Duo crawled from the tent. Turning on his torch Duo made his way, stumbling and slipping on the ice coating the floor to the rear wall, feeling his way carefully. Playing the torch around the cabin he sighed as he noted wooden shingles had been torn from one section of the roof. Snow was coming in in increasing quantities and would quickly drop the already chill temperature.

//Not good.//

Deciding his best option was to hope for a hidden room with nice rock walls, given their existing shelter was falling apart, he turned his attention to the rear wall.

There was no rope visible hanging from the wall or ceiling. He knocked his knuckles against its rough surface at evenly spaced intervals but it sounded disgustingly solid to him. Deciding it would make far more sense for a hidden pantry to be in the main room he eased his way over the icy floor and out the door.

At least he was not going to need to search the entire cabin. If there was a pantry it had to be on the rear wall, and at least that was away from the most dangerous section of the floor, the heavily iced over snow drifts.

"Look for a rope, he said." Duo glanced about him and shrugged, playing the light over the wall and then up to the ceiling. "Well, there are ropes here but… ah, what are you?"

Near a shelf tilted crazily where one sides support had broken away, a length of rope dangled from a rafter overhead. As Duo directed the torch along its length he followed the rope up to the rafter and then along, in the direction of the rear wall. A slow grin began to spread across his face as he found the place where the rope vanished through the wall.

"Ah, potential."

He tapped along the walls length, smiling widely at the decidedly hollow sound of one section. Uncertain how the door would work he grasped the rope and pulled carefully, watching as the rope tightened. It was so old he was afraid it would break if too much pressure was applied. Nothing resulted from his gentle pull and he scowled, deciding there was no help for it. He had to chance breaking the rope.

He checked the wall but could find no evidence of hinges, and he suspected some type of pulley system had to have been rigged. Gently at first, and then steadily applying more weight to the rope, he watched the wall, waiting for some sign of a door opening. There was a squeak, barely audible above the roar of the wind, and a section of the wall shuddered. Encouraged he pulled harder, leaning his weight against the rope, and the wall shifted.

//Did that go up?//

Applying a touch more pressure to the rope he leaned forward, intently watching the wall and yes, the line of nails was out of alignment with the side walls. Grinning now he pulled on the rope and watched as the section of wall rose an inch before it came back down with a thud as the rope broke.

"Shit." For a long moment Duo considered the rope dangling from his hand and then glared at the wall. "No matter. I know where you are now and I can force my way in."

The sound of the wind roaring through the trees and the banging of loose tiles suggested he had best not delay. The activity would help keep him warm. When he had checked out how large the pantry was he might see about transferring the equipment, and Marquise, into what he assumed might be a small cave.

"Always assuming, of course, it is large enough to fit more than a sack of potatoes and a deer carcass in."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	7. Chapter 7

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Veteran. Minor to Cobwebs, Bunny and Wind. Word count: 1691

Series: Friends 7/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Trowa x Quatre,

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 7

Duo had raised a sweat by the time he cleared the door from the wall. The pantry was larger than he had anticipated and he suspected he had an answer to his musings on where Spiders disappeared to in foul weather. He needed to clear out cobwebs before he could arrange a space within the cave large enough for his survival gear. By the time he finished he was certain he would not be sorry if he never saw a spider again.

The pantry had surprised him, being larger than he had expected. The walls had been worked, squared off by hand to shape the natural cave to meet the needs of the users. Rotting storage shelves and broken barrels lined up the walls and there were some mummified and frozen items he suspected might once have been vegetables.

The ferocity of the storm had continued to increase and he was driven by a rising sense of urgency. His something is wrong feeling was beginning to pound in his awareness and he pushed himself harder. Given the real danger he might hurt himself and jeopardize both himself and his patient, he forced himself to a slower and more cautious pace. He needed to remember there was another person relying on him and temper his haste with caution.

His cleaning efforts would never pass an inspection, but he was not fussed with gaining Brownie points for cleanliness. What he needed was to secure a sheltered position where the ceiling would not fall on them. He just needed to get the worst of the debris out of the way and send as many spiders into the next life as possible.

He was almost ready to bring Marquise, and with the man secured he could move the bulk of the equipment. He was not inclined to leave moving Marquise to last, in the event the ceiling did give out under the weight of snow and battering of the wind. The sleeping bag would have to be sufficient to keep him warm until Duo could get the tent erected, then he would need to get them both something hot to eat to help warm them up after the transfer.

"I could set a fire burning though. That will help keep Marquise warm while I fetch the gear."

There was sufficient debris about the pantry cave and the hut itself and he was quick to collect a healthy pile to one side of the door. The wood gathered from rotting shelves and broken barrels and furniture caught quickly and he wondered how long it would last. It would at least raise the temperature to something approaching a tolerable level of cold for a time.

00000000000000000000000000000000

He could feel Duo was disturbed. Some days his empathy was patchy at best but when it came to Duo he had a better sense of perception.

Quatre was uncertain what it was that bound them, but it existed. He knew the gamut of Duo's emotions, first worry growing to concern and touching on fear. These had passed and a sense of triumph followed by almost contentment had been shared. The comfortable feeling had spiked into something approximating surprise and just recently the familiar sense of unease which was Duo's special talent had returned.

Only he knew Duo laid claim to an extra sensory ability. His friend called it an instinct and perhaps it was as simple as that. Quatre did not know quite how to define what it was Duo did, but he had learned to trust his friend when he made what seemed to be irrational decisions.

Heading out into the teeth of a Sancian blizzard could certainly be described as irrational.

"Quatre." Trowa settled on the couch beside his lover and rested his head against the backrest, green eyes closed.

"Finished for the night?"

"Yuy called. He can not find Duo."

"Ah." He had wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed.

"Do you know where he is?"

Hard blue eyes rose to meet green and Trowa wondered how anyone could call Quatre sweet. He was deceptive, his lover, a chameleon. He was what he needed to be, strong when required, hard nosed at the negotiating table, generous to a fault and he felt the pain of the world itself. Quatre was many things, but weak was not one of them.

"Of course I know. If you care to think about it, so do you."

"He didn't wait, did he?"

Rolling his eyes Quatre rose and moved to the window, drawing aside the curtain. Normally from this window you could admire a spectacular view of the night lights of New Port City. Tonight there was only wind driven snow. Not a single light peeked through the blizzard to be a beacon in the darkness.

"Did you honestly expect him to?"

"Christ." Trowa scrubbed at his face. "Une has agents due at Marquise's place within the hour. If the bloody man did not live in the middle of nowhere it would be easier to check on him."

"He is with Duo."

"You can't know that, Quatre."

Full lips turned up into a gentle smile. "I do."

The one time mercenary scowled and suppressed a shiver. When Quatre used that tone of voice it brought to mind the weird things known to happen about him. They were veterans of the war, soldiers who had survived hell and found in each other a reason to continue living. They were like chalk and cheese and he did not understand what Quatre saw in him.

"I love you."

"Don't do that." He whispered, knowing Quatre thought he needed reassurance.

"I'm just saying I love you. I know you don't need me to say it, but I like to tell you. We survived the war, Trowa. We are supposed to enjoy the peace we fought to achieve and all around us I see the signs nothing has really changed. It's disheartening and I need to know something good came out of the chaos. The war brought me to you and that is very good."

"You are the best thing that happened to me." He could admit that.

Once the smallest of the five Quatre was now not so much shorter that Trowa, only a few inches separating them, and he was sleek and muscled like a dancer. With regret Trowa discarded the idea of embracing his lover and dragging him off to their bed to do a fair imitation of bunnies. With Duo out in the storm there would be no lovers tryst.

"I'll start collecting the equipment."

"It is already assembled." Quatre murmured. "I think you will find I have forgotten nothing."

Sometimes Quatre could be positively eerie. "Then I will call the others and we will go after that lunatic."

"No."

Trowa paused for a moment, uncertain he had heard right. "No?"

"We are not going after Duo tonight. It would be foolhardy. When he departed there was still the chance he could make it into the highlands. He is a veteran pilot, one of the best in the Earth Sphere. He had the skill to go then but not even Duo could fly in this."

"He'll die out there."

"He is very good at surviving. He has a good feel for time; for knowing the right time to act. That time was this afternoon, not now. None of you trusted his instinct and now it is too late. We will need to wait out the storm before we consider rescue."

Trowa moved to the window and stared into the darkness. There were lights somewhere down there, an entire city full of lights and yet the night was pitch black.

"He will die out in this."

"He's not out in this." Quatre smiled and turned to face Trowa. "Duo is making himself comfortable with the survival gear I installed on the chopper he took. I tried to think of everything he might feasibly need and he has sufficient food to last him for days."

"He should have waited for confirmation Marquise is at his residence. It was a needless risk to take."

"I doubt Zechs would agree with you. He's not at his residence, Trowa; he's out there, with Duo in the mountains."

"He has enemies enough to want him dead, though it is not generally known he is alive. Wanting and acting are two different things."

"He was willing to pay the price." Quatre whispered. "I don't think if it was me I would have had the strength to do what he did."

"He threatened to destroy a planet."

"He achieved exactly what he intended to. I would hate to face that man across the negotiating table if he dabbled in business the way he dabbled in world politics. He can be utterly ruthless to achieve his goals and that is a frightening thing. Like us, he survived the war, a hardened veteran who looked into hell and walked out alive. The war changed us all in different ways, but that man would do exactly what he did again if there was a need."

"You sound like you admire him. He was the enemy. He was the crazy son of a bitch who wanted to destroy everything."

Quatre sighed softly. "Did he, Trowa? Did he really? You should talk to Heero some time, about what happened on Libra during that last day. Sometimes things are not as clear as we think."

For a long time they stood at the window and stared into the darkness, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Quate stepped away, dropping the curtain and turning to his lover.

"Let's go to bed and bop like bunnies. Duo is settling down to sleep and I need warming."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	8. Chapter 8

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Deadline and Anger. Minor to Rescue. Wu Fei + Trowa and Zechs for the challenge characters. Word count: 1519

Series: Friends 8/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Trowa x Quatre, Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 8

There had been a time when Quatre, like he, feared to sleep. Sleep brought nightmares, memories of times best forgotten, but unforgettable. War had shaped their entire lives, eventually submerging even Quatre into blood and destruction.

Trowa had found no escape from bloody terror filled dreams, even after years of peace. Bloody dreams birthed from his days as a mercenary and leading into the final war. How many times had he watched his mercenary unit die? How many times had he watched himself kill those deemed the enemy; enemy by the simple expedient of their employers naming them the enemy. As a mercenary with no name or as Trowa Barton, possessor of a stolen name, there had been little change in his circumstances. He had killed those who had deserved killing and those who had been innocent of wrong doing, and those deaths haunted him to this day.

Quatre slept like an innocent and he did not understand how.

If anything Quatre had killed more people than he in all his long career of killing. Certainly there had been nights when Quatre would wake screaming, and had taken shelter from imagined ghosts under the bed. The deaths of the colonists he had instigated whilst under the influence of the Zero system were a large part of those nightmares and the guilt his lover carried.

What he did not understand was how, in the last few years, had Quatre found peace within himself?

Peace, an understanding between himself and his dead. What else could explain the absence of nightmares, and the faint smile even now curving full lips?

The sleep of innocents.

//I don't understand you. I have tried, but I never seem able to define exactly who you are.//

It was no nightmare of past killings which had driven him from his bed tonight. He was tired, aching in bone and muscle and desperate to sleep after what could only be described as exceedingly satisfying sex. Quatre was always a new experience in bed, inventive and exceedingly supple, and more than willing to experiment.

No, it was not dreams which called him from his lover's arms, but the need to contact his partners.

They had arranged a deadline and it was approaching, and he was under obligation to contact them. He had come to speak to Quatre over Duo's disappearance while Heero continued to seek out Duo's known haunts. Wu Fei had chosen to remain at Preventer Headquarters whilst awaiting news of the agents nearing the home of Zechs Marquise, and he would be awaiting reports from his partners. There should be news of Marquise by now.

//Marquise, Peacecraft, Wind… The man has more names than a stray dog adopted by a dozen gutter brats.//

Trowa did not know what to make of the man, but he was far from pleased to be caught up in what he hoped was a hoax. Given Marquise was thought to be dead by the general population, this anonymous tip the man was a victim of kidnapping and possible murder was cause for concern.

Personally Trowa did not care if he lived or died. The disturbing truth was someone knew Marquise was alive, and that was a breach in security. Une did not want the entire ESUN knowing he still breathed, be it under the name Marquise, Peacecraft or Wind. He worked as a secured agent for Preventer, excluded from the general staff of the organization, called in if a situation was classed critical and the attending agent was considered expendable in pursuit of peace.

Trowa was more than surprised to learn he was not considered expendable, and a government pardon had been granted when he joined Preventers. He had been aware a deal was done to keep the Gundam Pilots from being prosecuted for war crimes, despite their being touted as having saved Earth and the Colonies. Negotiations had been long and delicate, and he suspected a large proportion of the Council of Representatives had well scratched backs by the time the negotiations were finished.

He suspected Lady Une and Relena Darlian, the now Foreign Minister, had done a similar deal to keep the crazed maniac Marquise from being publicly tried and imprisoned. People in high places certainly knew he was alive and well, and he supposed taking on seemingly impossible missions might well be the price for his freedom.

//I wonder if any deals that have been done will continue to stand if he is revealed to the general public as being a rather spry corpse?//

Not that it was any concern of his. It was only Duo 'Idiot' Maxwell who concerned him and his fellow agents. Marquise could burn in hell as far as he was concerned. Checking the time he pulled on a loose pair of track pants and slipped out of the bedroom. Chang would be calling him if he did not call first, and he would prefer Quatre not be disturbed.

Padding barefoot to Quatre's study he settled himself before the vidcom and took the time to indulge in a long and luxurious stretch, trying to work the kinks out of his back. Some days Quatre's enthusiasm in bed wore him out. He never did understand what Quatre ate to give him so much energy after working a full day at that sweat shop he called an office.

Dialling Wu Fei's extension at Preventer Headquarters he was hardly surprised the call was answered on the second ring. Chang would not have been far from the unit.

"Barton. What did Winner have to say?"

Chang was sociable as ever, he mused and inclined his head by way of greeting. "You know as well as I do where Maxwell is."

Dark eyes spat fire and Chang snorted. "Typical. As it happens it may be to our advantage. The agents sent to investigate the residence report no one has been there for at least two days. There was no sign of a struggle, but there is evidence the subject did not depart voluntarily."

"Evidence?"

"The investigation unit found a tranquilizer dart in the sitting room. We might safely assume the subject was tranquilized from a distance before being approached."

"Maxwell took a chopper equipped with survival gear to the given coordinates."

"What does Winner have to say? Is he worried?"

"About Duo? Not at all. His only comment was Duo had needed to go when he did given the conditions. Basically there was a deadline to his departure or he would not have made it to the coordinates before the storm closed off the mountains."

"It makes sense." Chang nodded. "Maxwell may be many things I find distasteful at the best of time, but there is no disputing he is the best pilot of the five of us. I will have a chopper prepared for arctic conditions. It will take an hour or two to arrange."

"Quatre already has a unit prepared for us to use. He said there is no urgency, Duo was settling down to sleep and Quatre is sleeping like a baby, completely unconcerned. Conditions up there are bad. Basically, until they improve, we are locked out of the mountains."

Wu Fei nodded, not inclined to argue. It was foul weather and it would be a long night while they waited to take action. If Maxwell was equipped with survival gear he was as safe in the mountains as it was possible to be.

"Have you heard from Yuy?" Trowa queried.

"He reported in a few minutes before you, and for Yuy he was in a fine temper at finding no sign of Maxwell."

"It's not as though he did not know what Duo was likely to do. He's a loose cannon, we all know that. Did any of us honestly expect him to wait to hear if it was a false alarm?"

"Of course not, but you know Yuy. For someone who rarely showed a hint of emotion during the war he has developed a fine temper."

"I am sure dealing with Relena's security day in, day out, has something to do with that." Wu Fei snorted. "I certainly will not take it on."

"If he thinks Maxwell will agree to join Preventers and chase after the Foreign Minister, he has another think coming. If he wants to play patty cake with the woman he will have to find another body to take his place. Duo won't agree to baby sit the Princess, and neither will I."

Wu Fei pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Play patty cake?" He held up a hand, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to know anything. Yuy will get over his fit of pique in due time. Une has officially assigned this case over to the three of us. Can you check out what equipment Winner has prepared? If it is more advanced than the Preventer gear I can commandeer we will take that, and Winner Enterprises can bill Preventer for its use."

Trowa scowled. "This is an official case now?"

"To be handled with the utmost discretion."

It seemed, even in absentia, Marquise was a pain.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	9. Chapter 9

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Rescue and Murder. Minor to Veteran Word count: 1594

Series: Friends 9/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 9

Duo panted softly, leaning against the icy wall. At his feet Zechs looked to be on the verge of passing out, and Duo was frankly surprised the man had managed to retain consciousness during the move. It was only the ice on the floors, the same ice he had complained about since entering the hunting lodge, that had enabled him to move the much larger and heavier man. Not once during the arduous dragging had Marquise protested the rough treatment.

If for nothing else Duo had to give him points for pain tolerance. Even Heero might have grunted a time or two, but Marquise simply set his teeth and did his best to help him.

"You'll need to sleep, and once I get the rest of the gear in here I'll be joining you." Duo stretched his back slowly, wincing. "Damn, do you make a habit of eating rocks?"

"One small one at every meal of the day." The low voice returned. "It builds muscle, I'm told."

Duo mustered a small grin and surveyed the drag trail in the outer room where they had disturbed the wind drifted snow.

"Can you tell if we took skin off your feet and legs?"

"Probably did, but there was no help for it. I can not walk and I'm too heavy for you to carry, dragging was the only option."

Duo crouched at the side of the fire and fed a few pieces of wood to the hungry flames. "At least the cave feels warmer, although I guess that could just be the exercise."

"If you can bring more wood in we might keep the fire going for a while. If we heat rocks we could use them to heat the tent and have the door held open to trap the heat inside. For a time at least."

"Yeah. Good idea." Duo rose. "I guess I had better get the tent."

He resisted the urge to tell Marquise to rest, there really was nothing else the man could do. He had tried to make the move easier by pushing himself with his legs while Duo dragged, and though it had not helped a great deal Duo was grateful.

Left to his own devices Zechs sighed and rested his head back against one arm, raising the other to stare at the bandage wrapping his wrist.

//No sign of bleeding, I guess that means it is healing and I will not be dying this time either. Death hates me.//

Stupid thought. He might have thought it was all over, but it seemed the world was not finished with Zechs Marquise. There was obviously more for him to do than bleed out and freeze in a run down cabin in the highlands.

He had not expected to be rescued.

Who was it who was so intent on murdering him? The bloody fool had been intent on making him suffer, and missed his chance to kill him because of it. There should have been no escape from this trap, but instead of death there had come rescue.

Tied to the chair, wrist slit with a blizzard battering the mountains, yes, his attacker had wanted him dead. Wouldn't he be surprised to learn he still lived?

//No more surprised than I am.//

Though perhaps he should not be. He was, he had learned from brutal experience, very hard to kill. Whether being blown up by exploding space fortresses or having revenge bent killers intent on doing the job he was, once again, defying death and surviving to see another day. Before Libra and the war there had been the fall of Sanc which, again against the odds, he had survived. A terrified six year old who could no longer call himself a pacifist, even then, had survived the massacre and the first few months basically on his own.

He definitely should have died.

Why did death seem so determined not to collect him?

Would that Treize had been as indestructible. The world would be a far different place if his friend had lived and that, he knew, was precisely why Treize had ensured he died.

//Noble fool.//

Indestructible sounded hideously similar to unsinkable, and everyone knew of the legend of the pre colony ship Titanic. It would not do for him to consider himself indestructible, not in his line of work. By the laws of chance he should have been dead by now; a number of missions for Preventers should have seen him fail and die. To fail a mission was to die in his line of work.

He was still alive, this time in no small part thanks to Duo Maxwell of all people.

Being rescued from his would be killer had not occurred to him. This time he had thought there would be no escape. Who cared enough to look if, indeed, anyone had realized he was missing? He would not have expected a one time enemy, as Duo had once been, to come for him, though why Duo had bothered he did not understand. Someone had alerted Preventers to his predicament, so dare he think someone out there gave a damn?

There it was again, he was entertaining the notion someone cared. In his line of work that was one of the gravest mistakes you could make.

Noin had cared, but he had put a stop to that, and some days he called himself a hundred different kinds of fool for doing it. It would have been nice to have something approaching a normal life, but for him any chance of that had ended with the fall of Sanc.

It was hardly normal for a Peacecraft heir to live the life he led, and he hated to think what his father would have thought of him. It was of no concern though, done was done and there was no going back. Sanc would never be what it once was, never stand for what it had once represented. The past was just that, past and it did no one any good to linger there. He had a life to live as best he could.

"Damnable bloody ice!"

He could not help the small smile at the explosive curse from the main room. It sounded as though Maxwell had landed on his rump once again, and he wondered how much more the man could take. There should be something he could do to help, instead of leaving it all up to his rescuer.

Why had Maxwell come? Duo had given him no explanation that did not leave him with more questions. Why should Maxwell care if he lived or died? What would drive the man, a former Gundam Pilot, to come out in a frigid Sancian blizzard and fight the hellish winds of the mountains to find a man he had accounted an enemy not so many years ago?

In the war there had been no actual meeting between the two of them, and at the end of the Barton problem they had actually fought on the same side. He could probably count the times they had spoken after that on the fingers of one hand. He had fled to Mars and the fledgling terra forming project, making himself scarce to remain dead for the peace of mind of the people of Earth.

//What did Duo do with himself in that time?//

He was a veteran of politics as well as war, and he had known he could not remain on Earth at that time. He had hoped to make a start on Mars, but that had not worked out. His past had pursued him, even to that distant ball of icy dust, and he had needed to face reality. It was no life for a woman who wanted a family, and he had firmed his resolve to make Lucrezia abandon him.

There was no pleasure in succeeding in that endeavour. He had hurt her and he had hurt himself to accomplish the feat of making her turn away, but he did not regret it and he probably never would. She deserved far better than he could offer her and he had recently heard rumours she had begun dating.

He wished her well.

How long before he would be fit to return to duty? How long before Une called him to another mission in which he could find a reason to live? He had fought for peace, killed for peace and turned an entire planet against him… all for peace. What more was there for him to do, but defend that peace?

"Remind me to take an add out in the World Press, will you? If someone has to kidnap your sorry arse again, they are to dump said arse in a tropical location, okay?"

Maxwell staggered through the door, the collapsed tent being used to hold the last of their supplies as an impromptu sled. He could hear the lodge creaking in the howling wind and wondered if it would survive the night, but at least now he need not fear the roof falling in on his rescuer.

If the roof caved in and killed him, well and good, it would only give him release from an existence he did not find particularly attractive. It was another thing for the roof to land on this ever smiling man who had come when he had not needed to.

"Thank you."

Duo looked up, one chestnut brow arched in query. He had not realized he had spoken aloud until the blue-violet eyes locked on him in question.

"For what?"

"For coming for me."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	10. Chapter 10

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Hair and Resolution. Minor to Wind and Murder. Word count: 2197

Series: Friends 10/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 10

Duo stepped back and surveyed the tent. The storage space he laughingly called a pantry was large enough to take the tent and the fire without there being a real fear the fabric might catch fire. The wind entering the hut through cracks and holes in the building set the flames dancing, and he wanted to ensure there was no danger of roasting himself and his companion.

The lodge groaned to a particularly violent gust of wind and he shook his head slightly, his unease the storm might bring down the building in no way eased by their more secure position. He had taken stones from the hearth and placed them near the fire to heat, liking his companion's idea of using them to help heat the tent. Marquise lay dosing beside the fire, and Duo knew it was about time he worked the man into the shelter once again.

//If I get Zechs settled and roll in a few heated stones we could share a hot food pack and then get ourselves sorted to sleep. I'm tired and now I know the roof won't cave in on me I think I can sleep quite comfortably. First I'll lean the door back up against the wall.//

Zechs stirred as Duo stepped over him. While roomy for a pantry it was still a little cramped given they had the tent, two adult male bodies and the fire all in the one space.

"I'll get you into the tent just as soon as I put the door back in the hole. We can have something hot to drink and then get some sleep. I'll check you over before I settle down and see what damage we did to the sleeping bag dragging you in here."

"Don't put the door tightly in the space. If the lodge does come down we need to be able to investigate the damage, and make certain we can dig an air vent. This is a sealed cave and we will need some air flow, especially with the fire burning."

Duo nodded slowly. "Yep. I'll be sure to leave a nice draught. I like breathing more than I like being cold. Man, I thought the colonies were cold. The colony in the L2 cluster I came from had problems with the heating much of the time. It was never cold enough to kill, but some days it seemed damnably close."

Duo stepped into the lodge and worked the door into position, backing into the cave carefully. After a moment he decided the best thing to do was to place the door a little to the right in the frame, this would leave an inch wide gap from floor to ceiling. Much of the icy air and wind would be cut off, but there would be sufficient air to allow the fire to vent and provide air for him and Marquise. He made use of the broken rope and a few stones taken from the outer hearth to secure the door in place.

"I never had to worry about things like weather in space. I hear some of the fancier colonies have something approximating weather control, though the problems of keeping it running smoothly are still being worked on."

"They are making progress resolving the issues."

"I don't see that it is necessary myself." Duo stepped back from the door and rummaged in the packs. "It is expensive to maintain and I can't see that it has any real benefit. Seems to me it's just the rich showing off."

"Perhaps so."

"I'll get you in the tent in a minute. I thought I would just choose what we will be eating. You feel up to it?"

"I need a drink and I am hungry."

"Soup then. Maybe in the morning we might try you on something a little thicker, I have a couple of stews here. How did you find yourself in this mess?"

Marquise had known that question would be coming. His home was supposed to be a secured location, known only to a select few, which made him wonder about the identity of his abductor. His enforced isolation must cut down on the list of suspects.

"I was returning from a mission. Someone discovered the location of my home and was waiting for me."

"Wouldn't think you would have a shitty security system." Duo commented, studying ration packs before setting one aside.

"It is rather a good one." Zechs murmured. "It was compromised, though I did not know that at the time, and I have to wonder at the skill level required to circumvent it. The screens revealed nothing of the breach, and when I walked in the front door I felt something sharp hit me in the chest. I believe that to have been a tranquilizer dart."

"Well, when we get back to civilization, I guess we will need to find your not so friendly friend. I might just enjoy having a little chat with him." He tossed a second ration pack from hand to hand absently. "Another chicken and vegetable broth would be best, I think. Did you see anything that might help identify your would be murderer?"

"Nothing. I am not certain I would even recognize his voice, given he never spoke to me above a whisper, and then he hissed more than spoke. I rather think he did not like me."

Duo snorted. "Yeah. You might say that. Trying to murder someone the way he tried to do you in suggests the guy has issues. Personal, I would think, but he might be a nutcase who blames you for everything in his life that ever went wrong. I guess you need to have a talk to him about it."

Crystal blue eyes narrowed and Duo suppressed a shiver which had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Marquise looked feral, the epitome of the cold blooded hunter who knew how to kill and had no fear of dealing death. Marquise might not know who his assailant was, but Duo did not doubt the would be killer was right at the top of the man's personal hit list.

"I have every intention of finding him and engaging in a quiet conversation."

Duo nodded, watching as Marquise ran a hand through his hair. That hair was matted and knotted, and he guessed the man was not feeling particularly comfortable with it in that condition. Long fine boned fingers carded through a long lock and snagged, and Marquise began to work on teasing the matted hair apart with shaking fingers.

"Here. I have a brush and comb. Never leave home without one."

The blonde smiled slightly. "Normally I don't either."

"Well, we can resolve the issue of your tangled mane easily. I'll even have the honours, if you don't mind. I think I can handle that mess a little better than you just now. Do you plait it before you sleep?

"No. With a decent brushing usually it does not knot too badly, and I find if I tie it in a pony tail the tie resting at the back of my head usually keeps me awake and gives me a headache."

Duo carded his fingers through the pale mass and sighed. "Damn, I like your hair. Lighter and finer than mine and you have masses of it. I'm a really messy bird's nest if I don't braid at night."

Duo settled behind Zechs and with a little pulling and shuffling managed to get the blonde leaning against the packs. Now in a position where he had free access to the pale mass Duo settled down with comb in hand and gave himself over, to what for him, was a more than pleasant pastime. He found handling his own hair soothing, and he had always wanted to get his hands on this pale waterfall.

"You let it grow after the war." He commented. "It was mid back on you then and now you can sit on it."

"There was no reason good enough to cut it." As the comb and brush began to work in his hair Zechs gradually relaxed, finding confidence in the competent hands working on the tangles.

"How come you got to keep it long in the first place? I mean, Earth forces military make you buzz cut on signing up."

Zechs shuddered delicately and inclined his head slightly to allow Duo greater access to a particularly stubborn knot. He was finding Duo's attentions rather pleasant, and tried not to think of nature programming shows showing monkeys grooming each other and narrators talking of social bonding. Where that thought came from he did not want to pursue.

"Treize had influence in many circles and I was not just a mobile suit pilot. Some of the missions I was assigned required one to be not an obvious military man. At least, not an Oz or an Alliance soldier."

Duo paused and stared at the pale head under his hands. This was new. "You did undercover work?"

"Yes. Work not too dissimilar to what I am doing now."

Duo frowned, returning his attention to the tangled mane. Drawing the brush through the long stands he considered the wisdom of pursuing this line of conversation, but Marquise seemed not to be disturbed. He closed his mouth on a comment, frowning and after a moment took a smaller lock of hair and repeated the brushstroke, his frown deepening as the hair parted.

"Your mask… was that to stop people from recognizing you as a Peacecraft, or was it a means to hide your face for those undercover missions?"

Zechs smiled, resting his chin on his crossed arms, allowing the weight of the packs to support him. "Very good, Duo. Most people would not have made the connection, but then, not many knew about those missions. The mask served both purposes. When I graduated from the academy I took to wearing the mask to separate myself from my undercover persona. It ensured no one recognized me as a Peacecraft, or placed this face as the face of Zechs Marquise, Oz Specials officer. I had been told, on too many occasions, I closely resembled my father, though I could never actually see it. When the pace of the war began to pick up, my undercover missions became fewer and I was required to be Zechs Marquise, mobile suit pilot. Zechs was, by then, synonymous with the mask and the hair. "

"I never did understand how someone your age could have that high a rank in the military." Duo worked the last of the mat out and ran the brush carefully through the lock of hair before moving on to another, though he kept his eyes on the last lock he had untangled.

"It was not so unusual when you consider the Specials were not standard troops. We had our own ranking system which contained fewer ranks, and required very specific requirements to attain promotion within the rank structure. How else could Treize be an acknowledged Colonel at the age of twenty three? Special's was, literally, special."

"He was twenty three when he was made a Colonel? Damn, that is young. No wonder he upset the Alliance hierarchy."

"He earned his rank; it was not gifted to him by family connections. He was brilliant and… and he was only twenty five when he died." A low murmur.

Duo hesitated and decided he did not want to go there. Rumours had abounded during the war about the man who had died as the World Sovereign. At one stage these two men had been the best of friends, yet they had ended up on opposing sides of the conflict and tried to kill each other. War did strange things to people, he mused, his gaze moving to the knot he was currently working on.

"Ah, Zechs, have you got a girlfriend?"

Blonde brows lowered and fine lips pursed. A girlfriend? Had Lucrezia not broadcast it to Preventers that he was homosexual? He had expected her to, but Duo did not work for Preventers, he reminded himself, though he would have thought his friends would have informed him of the scandal. Perhaps the Gundam Pilots were above petty rumour mongering?

"No. Why?"

He had no idea what Maxwell was leading up to, but he was not of a mind to discuss his love life… or lack there of. His personal life was not an open discussion, even to the man who had saved him.

"I was wondering if you were the romantic sort and gave away locks of your hair."

"Excuse me?" Zechs glared over his shoulder at Duo, who was fingering long stands of hair with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well, if you are not the romantic sort to give away pieces of your crowning glory, then I'd venture to guess maybe your would-be murderer took a trophy." At the confusion in those light blue eyes Duo shrugged. "Someone cut a lock of your hair, not from an obvious place, but a reasonable sized bit. Maybe our man likes to keep trophies, and if so, it may help us to prove who he is."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	11. Chapter 11

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anniversary and Kiss. Minor to Laughter Word count: 2085

Series: Friends 11/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 11

"Comfy?" Duo grinned, trying to disguise his discomfort.

He was tired and physically he was done in from his efforts. Having chosen the meal they would eat he had dragged Marquise into the tent, opening the sleeping bag to check the man's injuries. Satisfied the blonde was not about to die from neglect he had attended to more mundane, and embarrassingly personal, physical needs.

He had attended to his own need when he braved the chill beyond the door to empty the bottle safely away from their living quarters. He had peed into a sheltered corner for fear of doing a physical injury to a more than delicate area of his body; having sensitive portions of his anatomy snap frozen was not his idea of fun. He had never been so pleased to tuck himself safely in his clothing, and hustled himself back into the small cave, securing the door for the night.

He checked his companion's feet, noting they had almost torn open the sleeping bag dragging Marquise into the cave, but aside from bruising no great damage appeared to have been done. Tucking his sleeping bag over Marquise's feet he had secured the two bags together, leaving the zip unsecured sufficiently to allow himself to slip within the beckoning warmth.

He doubted Marquise would argue sharing body heat. Once the fire went out, and it was down to smouldering coals, their only means of staying warm would be each other. He would tuck his cold weather gear in the foot of the double bag to give their feet additional protection from the cold; he did not know about Marquise but he had found if his feet were cold, he was cold.

Snapping the heating disk in the food pack he gave the bag a vigorous shake and waited, quietly counting to himself the required time for the pack to heat.

"I'll pull some stones into the tent as soon as we eat and close the zip. That should help. It's certainly warmer now than it was a little while ago."

When he received no answer he glanced at his companion. Marquise looked to be a thousand miles away, one hand curled into his hair and Duo knew he was fingering the cut lock. He knew if someone had taken a pair of scissors to his hair to take a trophy he would have been more than miffed. He already knew Marquise thought as much of his hair as he did of his chestnut tresses. Anyone who took scissors to him would make a target of themselves.

It suggested the would be murderer could be identified. After taking the trouble to take a trophy it was unlikely the hair would be simply thrown away.

"We'll find him." Duo offered.

"One can hope so." Marquise whispered.

"Hey, with the trophy as evidence we won't have much of a problem proving his involvement. I hate the sicko's, you know? There's something about the psycho ones that makes my skin crawl."

"He may have wanted the hair for something else."

Duo hesitated, uncertain where this conversation might lead. "Such as?"

Zechs dropped his hand and watched Duo pour the steaming soup into two mugs. He approved the sharing of the one meal; there was no need to waste rations. Who knew how long it would be before they could win free of the mountains?

"Perhaps proof of the kill."

"You are thinking there may be more than one person involved. A murder conspiracy?" Duo thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip. "Why would you think that?"

"You would need very specific information to break the security seal on my house." Zechs seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "There may have been one killer, and from what little he said I do not believe he was a contracted hit man. To not only find me, but to access the estate, required he know a great deal of information classified for very few eyes to see."

"Suggesting he had help. Help in high places." Duo agreed. "We will find out who and why."

"It was personal to him, I do not doubt that, but how did he know where I was? That is the more damning question; the question I need answered."

Zechs had not been wasting his time while Duo worked around him. He had been thinking on his predicament and trying to gain insight into his assailant's reasons.

"I am wondering if there may be a clue to be found in the date of my abduction. What day is it, Duo?"

"Tuesday the 8th of December." Duo returned, setting aside both cups and leaning down to grasp Marquise by his shoulders and lift him to lean against his lean frame. "Drink while it's hot."

He was pleased Marquise had begun to use his name. In his view formality between them would be a joke given their circumstances. They needed to work together and foster trust if they were to survive the cold. During the time he had dragged Marquise to the pantry cave he had suggested they resort to first names and Marquise had willingly obliged.

Besides, Duo mused, he was never a fan of formality and he sure as hell was not going to be Your Highnessing the older man. Not after stripping him, bandaging him, holding a bottle for him to pee into and would shortly share a bed with him.

Trembling fingers closed around the cup and Marquise managed a sip before the shaking got so bad Duo reached a hand around his shoulders to steady the cup.

"It's okay, you'll get stronger. I'm surprised you are doing as well as you are."

"The eighth." Zechs mused, returning to the problem at hand. "I returned from my mission late on the fifth. The Saturday."

"He kept you sedated if you have no sense of time passing for three days. What would be so significant about waiting three days to kill you?"

"Perhaps it is not the abduction date that is of importance, but the day he actually tried to finish me I should be considering. An anniversary, perhaps?"

Duo shrugged, lifting the cup and making the man drink. It was blessedly hot and he wanted Marquise to take advantage of the warmth.

"You know your past. Did anything significant happen on the eighth?"

"Off hand I can not think of the eighth of December as being significant, but that is not to say it is not pertinent to this matter. The date might mark the anniversary of the day he received word of a death or significant event he might attribute to me."

"Hell of a lot of possibilities it might be. You were Oz Specials. You were part of a legitimate registered organization, not a rebel force. Your missions would have been sanctioned. Of course it might be related to a White Fang event?"

Zechs frowned. "Perhaps… or not. What has the legitimacy of my being a part of Specials to do with someone hating me enough to commit murder? The human race is capable of killing for a multitude of reasons, and revenge is right up there in the top five. It may not be personal, but I think this is very personal to Him. I do not think I am being held to account for something the Specials or White Fang might be accredited with. If he waited so long to set me up to die on this day in particular, which I think is not chance but by design, then offhand I can not think of a mission which might explain it."

"Not that that means it is not related to a mission you completed in the past. As you said, it may commemorate the day he heard about what ever it was that ticked him off so much. It might just as easily be related to something you did more recently."

Zechs sighed softly and sipped more soup. "It could be anything."

Duo set aside his empty cup. "Well, he hates you enough to go to a fair amount of trouble to kill you. We know he has contacts that are privy to your files to gain the security information enabling him to breach your home security. That has to narrow down the field of possibilities."

Duo set both empty cups near the entrance to the tent and decided it was time to sleep.

"The fire is almost out, only a few coals remaining. I'll put a bit of snow on them so there is no danger of the fire being blown back to life. This puzzle can wait until tomorrow when we have clearer heads."

Zechs watched Duo douse the coals and roll hot rocks into the tent. The rocks were placed carefully, so as not to present a fire danger or the possibility of either man burning himself. Satisfied he had done what he could to make them secure and safe for the night, Duo removed his boots and he slid his slender body into the sleeping bag.

Duo pretended not to hear the hiss as his clothes caught on bruises and welts earned in Marquise's captivity as he worked the zip carefully closed. Turning off the hand torch he wriggle to a more comfortable position and sighed softly.

It was incredibly black with the torch off.

Duo considered himself fortunate. He was safe, holding little fear the cabin would collapse; he was warm enough and would get warmer with their combined body heat in the sleeping bag, and they were fed. All things considered they were in good shape and certainly things could be a lot worse. The puzzle of the killer could wait for another time. Given their current position even should the killer return it was doubtful he would find the cave immediately, if at all. He would certainly not be able to find them without making sufficient noise to wake him.

He was a light sleeper and he was armed.

"Do you have a gun in here or are you just glad to see me?"

The deep voice in his ear drew a shudder from him, one he hoped the man did not feel, even as laughter was forced out of him in a low snigger. Marquise had one sexy as hell voice and he snorted, thankful for the clothing he wore separating him from that large and very naked body.

"As it so happens, yes."

A low rumble of amusement sent a shiver up his spine. He would have expected some woman to have snapped the man up by now. Sultry seduction seemed to ooze from that husky voice so close in the darkness. What was it about the absence of light that altered his voice into something spine shivering in a good way?

"So which is it?"

"I'm sure as hell not intending to kiss you good night." Duo chuckled.

"Ah. Pity. I don't suppose you could move the damn thing a little, could you?

For him to ask Duo knew the gun must have been a problem for him physically. Given how severely parts of Marquise were bruised it did not come as a surprise, however he wanted the weapon close to hand. He would feel exposed without it.

"Do you need pain meds?"

The fact Marquise hesitated before responding told him the man was in pain, but after a moment Marquise shifted slightly and uttered a soft sigh.

"No. It's not bad as yet."

"What is hurting?"

A low snort in the darkness revealed Marquise was amused by the question. "Just about everything, but a hunk of metal pressed against my thigh is just a little too much."

Duo shifted the automatic. "Don't expect me to kiss it better."

"But mum, you know I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss." Came the whisper.

Duo laughed softly. "Go to sleep, son, or I will slap your arse."

"Do I get to turn over first?"

A short hard bark of laughter seemed to relax the man and Marquise was silent thereafter. For a time Duo listened to the storm raging beyond the cave then, content enough with his proximity to one who had once been an enemy, he relaxed.

He had not expected Zechs Marquise to have that much of a sense of humour.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	12. Chapter 12

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Veteran, River and Conquer. Minor to Bad Night Word count: 2344

Series: Friends 12/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Heero + Quatre, Noin

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Featured character challenge: Characters Quatre, Heero and Noin

Chapter 12

"Yuy."

Frosty blue eyes flicked up from the report on his desk and he acknowledged her with a barely perceptible nod. Lucrezia Noin had changed little since the war. She was still slender and wore her hair in a boyish fashion reminiscent of Trowa, though on her it looked utterly feminine.

"Have a seat."

Noin shook her head and leaned on the doorframe. She looked relaxed but alert, and he knew her capable of instant action should the situation warrant it.

"I have to be elsewhere in a few minutes, Heero. I was told you wanted to talk to me."

"Hello, Miss Noin." Quatre's bright voice startled her as he plainly was not in the office.

"Quatre?"

Heero motioned to the vidscreen before him and then waved at the seat beside him. "Have a seat, Miss Noin."

With a sigh Noin moved around the desk and settled beside her fellow agent. "You are always so formal, Heero. Quatre. You look well."

The blonde's bright blue eyes were shining as he dipped his head in greeting.

"As do you, Miss Noin." The blonde was smiling that innocent smile Heero knew was patented deception. "Sorry for interrupting your day, but we have a small problem you might be able to help us with."

Her one visible eyebrow arched and her blue eye acquired a faint tint which was almost lavender. Her eyes reminded Heero of Maxwell's, both of them with the rare colour that deepened to shades of lilac and lavender with the swing of their emotions. It went without saying the trait was more prominent with the live wire pilot of DeathScythe.

"Help you? Certainly, what can I do to help?"

"When did you last speak with Agent Marquise?"

Even Heero could feel the arctic chill emanating from her and she had not so much as twitched a muscle. Those changeable eyes however were frosty blue.

"Months ago. Frankly, Quatre, I am not interested in anything he might have to say, or in anything you have to say about him." Her eyes narrowed and she looked coldly at the blonde. "Nor do I care what you might have to do with the idiot who, if I am not mistaken, is supposed to be dead and I wish he would stay that way."

Noin stood in a graceful thrust, glared at Heero in accusation and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her for good measure. For a long moment neither of the former pilots spoke or moved, each considering the abrupt conclusion of the meeting. Quatre, with a small sigh, reached forward to close off the link and a moment later a door at the far end of the office opened and Quatre walked to claim the seat beside Heero.

"She is angry, there is no mistaking that, but I felt no guilt in her. Anger, hurt, those I sensed but not guilt. I do not think she is involved."

"Why did she react that way? I had the impression she was close to Marquise, that it was possible they would marry." Heero was scowling at the closed door, seemingly paying Quatre no mind.

"Who told you that?"

Heero snorted. "I have eyes, Quatre. I am capable of using them and the last time I saw Marquise and Noin together there was no strain between them."

Quatre arched an eyebrow in enquiry but made no comment, aware through his empathy Heero was mulling something over.

"Relena has mentioned the closeness between them on past occasions, and even gone so far as to wonder when they would set a date."

Quatre rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and leaned back comfortably in his seat. "I am not certain what happened between them, though I have my suspicions. I admit I do not know a great deal about the man, but I believe I know enough of him to estimate his sense of honour. I think he would not wish to involve Miss Noin in his current occupation. She would not take rejection from him, for any reason, well."

Heero turned from staring at the door to glance at his companion and he waved aside the topic, turning to what he considered more important concerns. "Something is not right. Une is playing coy with us. I was under the impression Chang and Barton are Special Ops."

Quatre nodded. "That's right."

"They don't work with Marquise. I've checked the records and Marquise is not listed as a Preventer agent. There are five Special Ops teams and he is not on any of them. Those groups are made up of veterans of the war, members of either Alliance or Oz Special Operations Units. I would have expected to find Marquise's name listed amidst their number. Curiously I have, to date, found no mention of him in Preventer records."

"Oh." Quatre stared off into space and Heero sat in silence, willing to wait for Quatre to run through his facts before making an assessment.

"Do you not think he might be more aptly described as Black Ops."

Heero stiffened before sitting back in his seat, his shoulders betraying his tension. "There is no provision for Black Ops Units listed in Preventers charter."

"I know." His companion murmured.

Heero scowled. "I see."

"I should have expected something like this to happen. He's proven to be hard to kill and he is impossible to ignore." Quatre continued. "A veteran of the wars and, from what my investigators have discovered, he was involved in more than just the Mobile Suit Division of the Specials."

Heero thrust himself to his feet and began to pace the length of the office, messy chocolate hair being subjected to a rough combing by restless fingers.

"If there was to be a Black Ops Unit I would have thought it would be the Gundam Pilots assigned to it."

Quatre frowned and rested his head in his hands, elbows perched on the desk, watching the measured stride of his companion. "I suppose one should be flattered to think one is not considered expendable."

Heero grunted. "If he was Black Ops it might explain Noin's attitude."

"There is something more there than him being assigned to so dangerous a line of work. I am more inclined to think Marquise found a way to make her back off; even hate him. It would have had to be something in her nature only someone so close to her would know about to exploit. Whatever it was it was no small feat, given she has been close to him for so many years."

Heero's gaze flicked to the window where the blizzard raged. The winds had eased through the night though not sufficiently to permit them to pursue their comrade. He was restless to leave, to track down their missing friend and he would have a few words to say to him about placing his life in danger. There had been no need for him to have risked himself for someone he did not even know. It was something only Duo of their number would do.

"He is alive, Heero. Duo is resting, I think. He is certainly not disturbed."

Dark eyebrows dropped into a familiar scowl. "I am not worried about him."

Quatre smirked. "Of course not."

"I am required to be at the palace in an hour, if the wind has not dropped."

"And I have a meeting." Quatre inclined his head. "Chang and Trowa have been assigned the case and we should leave it to them."

"It is not on the records, you know. This assignment is verbal only, and will be buried deep once it comes to a conclusion."

"I thought it might be." Quatre whispered.

"I am due for holidays at the end of the week. It was my hope Duo would replace me on Relena's security detail. I could trust him to see to her safety."

Quatre stood. "When you or Trowa and Chang decide you have suspects let me know. I will see when I am free to sense them. I must remind you, Heero, I am not infallible. My empathy comes and goes and is not one hundred percent accurate."

"They know that, but it comes in handy."

"Indeed." Quatre glowered at his friend. "I am not particularly fond of being a human lie detector, you know. I will not do it for you or them as a general rule. However, given the unique aspects of this case, I am willing to cooperate."

"Hnn." Heero moved to the door. "I will see you later. I have last minute checks to run before I attend Relena."

"Heero." Quatre called after him before he was fully out the door. "Duo will not replace you; not long term."

That was obviously not what Heero wanted to hear. His displeasure came across strong, Quatre's empathy leaving him in no doubt of Yuy's emotions.

"He has to do something with his life."

"He will, when he is ready." Quatre murmured. "He just needs a little time."

"He needs to be made to settle down and take a long hard look at himself." A hand rose, forestalling any comment from his friend. "I know, Quatre, I was the same. I ran repeatedly and I know now running was a mistake. What I needed were sessions with a psychologist and to find myself. Finding something solidly dependable to do with your life is a required part of moving on from the war."

Quatre sighed. "You worry about him."

He could feel the turmoil in his friend and his struggle against admitting he cared about DeathScythes pilot. Heero was more demonstrably emotional than he had been in the past, and it had not been an easy development. He was, on some occasions, still the Perfect Soldier.

"No, I… Yes." The admission came reluctantly, but it came, a sign of the progress he had made at throwing off the conditioning from the war.

Quatre smiled. "I am too, but Heero, until he is ready to make changes in his life, all we can do is be there for him. I know he has seen a psychologist, and I know he is more settled than he was, but he is not ready to be a Preventer."

Heero scowled. "He would do well as a Preventer. He has the required skills to excel at anything he turned his hand to."

"There is one thing you need to consider. Does Duo have the heart for the job? He has to conquer his fears, his doubts, before he goes on with his life. He carries a lot of emotional baggage from the war and his childhood, though he projects the mask of the jester. He's not the Duo Maxwell most people see."

"I don't underestimate him and I refuse to baby him. That is not what friends do."

Quatre smiled. For Heero to name himself a friend was progress indeed.

"Friends don't make the mistake of forcing someone to do something they are not ready to do either. Friends take the time to make sure they are really seeing what they think they are. Duo's not as wild and uncontrolled as people think. He's conquered more demons than most people encounter in their life times, and he has not fallen into despair yet. While he did most of that alone, he is no longer alone. We won't allow him to fall, but we can not run his life for him either."

"Why did he go out into those mountains yesterday? Why did he go into the storm? Why did you allow him to do it?"

He had wondered when Heero would ask. "Because he had to go. It was a bad night, but Duo was safe, I could feel him every step of the way. I can still feel him. For some reason I as yet do not understand, I have a fairly strong bond to all of us. Through Duo I can also feel Marquise, though I didn't need that bond to tap Marquise. I have felt him since Libra."

Heero stepped back into the room and closed the door, leaning against it as he studied the Winner. "You have not mentioned this before."

"What need was there to talk of it? I'm an Empath. I can feel the little girl who sells flowers at the underground station south of here. I can feel Trowa clear across town, he's laughing at the moment. I can feel the turmoil in you. There is a great deal I feel. Sometimes it is like a river, a great raging river in flood. Sometimes it is nothing more than a trickle of water. There is not much I can do but learn to live with it, however it manifests itself. Marquise, or Peacecraft if you prefer, was such a ball of tightly held emotion on Libra I could not help but feel him."

Heero paused as a group of agents walked past in the hall, listening to their steps and waiting until he was certain they were out of range to overhear their discussion. The pause, brief as it was, allowed him to consider what Quatre had told him.

"You could feel Marquise on the Libra. You knew what he was thinking?"

Quatre sighed and shook his head, brushing aside a forelock of hair absently. "I am an Empath, not a Telepath, Heero. I feel emotions, I do not read thoughts. It took me months to get past the war and what I had soaked in from others. A large part of that time was learning to deal with what I felt Marquise was feeling. Look, this is not the time, nor is it the place, to talk about this. We can talk later, when neither of us is expected elsewhere. The weather forecast suggests the storm should ease further today. Sometime tonight or maybe tomorrow morning it should have cleared sufficiently to get the chopper into the mountains."

Heero looked rebellious. "We need to talk."

"We will, just not now. We both have other things we need to do."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	13. Chapter 13

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conquer and Elves. Minor to Bad Night, Longest Day and Wind. Word count: 2,109

Series: Friends 13/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 13

"He called me Peacecraft."

Duo glanced up from coaxing the fire to life. The interior of the tent was lit by the lantern, burning low to conserve fuel. He could see Marquise propped on one elbow, looking thoughtful and delightfully sleep mussed. When Duo had woken he had abandoned the sleeping bag as carefully as possible, hoping not to disturb Marquise. It seemed he had been partially successful, though as yet he had not completed the day's preparations.

"Sorry to wake you."

"You did not." Blue eyes shifted from thoughtful distraction to interest in an instant, the blonde head turning to face Duo. "I presume the cabin is still standing?"

"Parts of it are."

Duo had left their secure pantry to relieve himself, and discovered the room in which they had previously sheltered had collapsed during the night. Where the tent had formerly stood was now a mass of heavy support beams and the remnants of the roof. Had they remained in the room they would have died. Even had they been spared being crushed by the support beams, they would have died of exposure having lost vital equipment.

"I'm surprised we never heard it collapse." Duo settled back on his heels. "Guess we were really exhausted."

"Yes." Zechs nodded slowly, eyeing the door propped securely against the doorframe. "I believe we were quite fortunate to escape unharmed."

Duo motioned to a pile of wood stacked neatly to one side of the fire. "I brought some more wood in while I was moving around out there. To me it doesn't seem as though the blizzard has let up at all. Given we will be stuck here for a good few hours at least, I thought we might as well be comfortably warm."

The blonde head inclined slightly, and Marquise pulled himself carefully the few inches required to allow him to rest his head against a pack. Duo considered him for a moment and turned back to the fire.

"I'll be there in a sec. I just want to get the fire going properly. I've left us a decent gap around the door for fresh air to circulate and to vent the fire. The main room of the cabin seems secure; at least I'm not hearing any particularly threatening groans and creaks. I'll check you over and then get us some breakfast. How are you feeling?"

"Better than I have a right to be." Came the low response.

"Yeah, well be thankful for that. I was taught we all have a designated day to die, and until your time is up, you enjoy life to the full. Guess it's not your time."

"It never is."

Duo glanced over his shoulder, uncertain he had actually heard the quiet whisper. It might have been his imagination, the howl of the wind, or it might have been his companion. He could not say for sure, but if it was the blonde it was worrying. Duo had gone through his own dark time following the war, indeed he was still dealing with it. He thought over the night before and the morning thus far, and he was not sure he liked the conclusions.

He needed to remind the man he was alive and life was meant to be lived. Zechs was undoubtedly a bit down at the present time; understandable given he knew someone wanted to kill him in a rather perverse fashion. It was never settling to know you had a sicko out for your hide.

"So what exactly do you do now?"

"I am an… agent."

Duo considered the pause, brief though it was, and could not say he was delighted with the possibilities it engendered. Something in the quiet voice more than the hesitation, suggested the topic would be a hairy one to pursue. Marquise had psychological issues which, given he was working for Preventers, must have been dealt with before he had been assigned his position. Surely it was just the after effects of near death making the man so difficult to read.

Deciding to tread with care Duo turned his attention to getting the fire to burn, and not only provide them with life giving heat, but a light source as well. Their lantern only had limited fuel and he was loath to waste it. It might also pay, he reflected, to distract Marquise from his melancholy.

"My friends want me to join Preventers… Well, most of them do. Me, I'm not sure being a Preventer is what I want to do with my life."

"If not a Peace Keeper, what would you prefer to choose as a career path?"

There was genuine interest in the deep voice, and glancing around Duo watched Marquise wriggle himself into a position where he could more comfortably see what was going on.

Feeding the growing flames more substantial fuel he dusted off his hands and settled his backside in the doorway of the tent.

"Well, I'm not really sure, you know? I never expected to survive the war, and finding myself alive was… a bit of a surprise. All I was trained to be was a street rat and Gundam Pilot. I have skills, loads of them, but I'm not sure where I want to apply them. I don't particularly fancy becoming a thief, and don't want to become a Preventer either. I've tried a few things, but nothing seems right. I thought I might hook up with the Sweepers for a bit. It's been a while since I've seen Howard."

After a moment Marquise closed his eyes and turned his face away. "I hope you find what it is you are looking for, Duo Maxwell."

Duo stared at the still figure. He had expected more. Expected something along the lines of the lectures he received periodically from Heero and Wu Fei. Even Trowa expressed his opinion on what Duo should be doing with his life. Only Quatre had not pushed a career choice on him, seeming to understand he needed time to find himself. He had visited psychologists, sorting out the mess his head had been in from the war. He felt better about himself since those visits, but he was, at this time, unable to choose one set path to follow.

"Enjoy your freedom while you have it."

Duo pursed his lips and considered his companion. "I don't rightly know what it is I'm looking for, you know? Nothing seems quite right, but I sure as hell know I don't want to go around killing people. That counts Preventers out. I've had enough killing, but I can't see myself behind a desk shuffling papers. Boredom would have me ripping the plaster off the walls in no time."

"You will return to space?"

"I guess. To be honest I'm not particularly fussed about that idea either, but Howard said I was welcome and he would help sort me out. He said until I understand the inner me I won't find what I want. So, what made you join up with Preventers again? I thought when you disappeared after the Barton incident you had left Preventers and gone to ground."

For a long moment there was silence and Duo felt the weight of it. Marquise seemed to be a statue, rigid in the soft lantern light.

"It seems conquering the Red Planet was deemed to be of secondary importance in certain circles. I was… requested… to return to Earth and take up a new position."

Duo shifted uncomfortably. Certain circles, eh? He could well guess who would consider it too dangerous to have the Peacecraft son running loose. If the man had threatened to destroy the world, and had the means whereby he could actually achieve such destruction, he could see why certain people in power wanted to keep an eye on him. Marquise, or Peacecraft, which ever name he cared to use on the day, had taken no suspicious or threatening action since the fall of Dekim Barton and his granddaughter. Was that because he was contained and controlled by high authority, or because he willed it so?

"People in power have long memories, Mr. Maxwell, and are not always inclined to be magnanimous. When you are referred to as a planetary threat, you understand where you stand, and where you may not tread."

There was a wealth of suggestion in the quiet voice, and Duo, having seen the mechanics of politics at play, could read between the lines.

"Sucks, man. I thought you and Miss Noin had a thing going and you had eloped; or something like that."

"That was Noin's intention." The soft breath of air held the weight of the world in its quiet sound.

Duo picked up on the tone and dared to further question. He had nothing much else to do and it would while away a few minutes. Marquise was too weak to do him any mischief anyway, and Duo loved to gossip. He would not, he promised himself, spread this sort of gossip around. Marquise had enough to deal with from the sounds of things, without him adding to his burdens.

"Things not turn out so well, huh? I thought for a time I would settle down with Hilde, maybe have some kids and have a proper family home. It didn't work out." He had wanted it to, but it had not been right. He had realized that fairly early on in the relationship, but had tried despite the mounting evidence to the contrary. "Guess I'm not ready to put down roots yet."

"We need to conquer our perceptions of ourselves before we can chart a new course." Milliardo rubbed his cheek gently against the rough canvas of the pack. "Noin should not have to deal with my past constantly, and she refused to acknowledge I would never be free of it. It is better she finds a new life; a normal life."

Duo rubbed at his cheek, considering the word 'normal' with a jaundiced view. "It would not be so easy to find a new life. Not even for a woman like her."

"It is better she try than become embroiled in my current occupation. We all had to make a new beginning after the war, nothing was the same, or would be again. For some of us it is unfortunate it requires more than one attempt to start something new. Something worthwhile."

"And for some of us nothing seems right, and we just have to bumble along as best we can. Life can suck big time." Duo rose slowly and stretched. "Guess I had better get you checked over and see about breakfast. I don't know how long we are going to be locked in the mountains, but I guess it can't be for much more than a day or so."

Zechs chuckled ruefully. "Colony bred."

"Huh?" Duo ducked into the tent proper and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

"We are in the mountains surrounding Sanc, I take it?"

"Yeah, North East of New Port City." Duo had forgotten Milliardo had no real concept of their location.

"Blizzards have been known to blow here for up to ten days, without relief."

"Ten days?" Duo sagged in the doorway. "Ah man, I hope this isn't one of those."

"We are early in the season for a full scale blizzard. Listen for the Elves singing after sundown; that will tell you if we are in for a long stay."

Zechs refrained from laughing at the look on Duo's face. He had seen such expressions before, and given what he had said he could understand the look. In these days of technology and space travel who believed the old tales? Myth and mythology, fairytales and superstition. These was the stock in trade of the mountain people, isolated and wishing no part of the wonder of science over the traditions of their past.

"Excuse me? Listen for Elves?"

"This is Sanc and we are in the high mountains. Here pagan rituals are more common than technology. It is said by the mountain folk during a storm, if the Elves sing as the sun sets, the blizzard will blow itself out by dawn."

Duo looked almost cross eyed at Zechs. "So how the fuck do you hear Elves sing?"

Zechs chuckled. "You hear their voices in the wind."

"Weird." Duo snorted.

"Now Duo, they say magic is simply science, undiscovered and misunderstood, by the mind of man."

"You are getting me worried, Marquise." Duo grinned. "I am beginning to think you are living in the wrong time."

It was a melancholy smile that answered his rescuer. "Ah, I am, Duo. I belong in another time entirely."

End

Karina Robertson 2007

00000000000000000000000000

Authors Note

To date this is the latest chapter of Friends. I usually manage to turn out one chapter a week, close to the weekend. Hope you continue to read and enjoy. Thank you to those who have reviewed Friends, your feedback is much appreciated.

Karina


	14. Chapter 14

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Green and Elves and Crystal. Minor to Wind. Word count: 1,769

Series: Friends 14/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 14

Duo decided for the sake of sanity it was safer to move on to another topic. He found talking of Elves singing in the blizzard to be just too weird. Despite himself he found he was straining to hear something in the howling wind which might be ethereal voices. He assisted Marquise in relieving himself and went to empty the bottle safely away from their shelter, and found himself immersed in the sounds of the storm.

If anything the blizzard seemed worse. Daylight made little impression on the blizzard, perhaps lightening the gloom a little. Somewhere out there, though he could not see it from the window, sat the helicopter. He should, he knew, venture out to check on the machine, but should he fall and break a bone he placed his life, and that of Marquise, at risk.

There was no one to rescue him.

He became aware of another potential problem, a more immediate threat. Through the window he could see the snow had piled up, drifting beneath the overhanging roof. He estimated overnight the drift had grown to reach his thighs, and with the storm still raging he was concerned the cabin might be buried. Toilet breaks would permit him to check the security of the cabin without alarming his companion.

Returning to the pantry he propped up the door carefully, eyeing the diminishing pile of wood and deciding he needed to fetch more. Without an axe or saw his supply was limited to the pieces of the cabin he could manage to break off from the debris in the other room. He would need to keep the fire low to conserve fuel, but still give them some meagre warmth to ease their stay.

"So what were you saying when you woke up?"

"I'm sorry?" Zechs glanced up from the cup he held.

He had been pleased with his improvement overnight, waking to feel stronger. He even managed to hold his own cup, at least for a time. While Duo had attended to matters of hygiene he had settled himself on his side, hitched onto one elbow with his back propped against a pack. He did not need to lift the cup far, and was relieved not to trouble his rescuer for aid.

"When you woke up you said 'He called me Peacecraft.' Who did you mean?"

"Ah. I had not realized I spoke aloud." He sipped the soup, beef this time, and decided he preferred the chicken.

"Well?"

Sighing softly Zechs shrugged. "I remembered my attacker calling me Peacecraft that is all."

Duo settled back on his heels, nursing his mug of soup as he considered his companion. The attack had to be weighing on his mind, but Duo suspected it was more than that. Marquise, he suspected, had a keen analytical mind, and was likely to pick the bones of his memory for any hints which might assist to identify his assailant. Given how Marquise had orchestrated the battle of Libra, and particularly how he had used the mobile dolls and the Zero system, Duo suspected a genius lurked under all that blonde hair.

The man had made use of Zero, or rather the Epyon system, in a manner Duo would never have considered. Heero claimed the two systems, while fundamentally similar, were different. He remembered the night before, when Marquise had first woken and claimed Epyon did not lie. To his knowledge only the two men had used both systems. Heero largely refused to talk about Epyon, though he would speak of Zero. All he really would say about Epyon was that it lied.

Zechs, under the influence of Epyon, had acted insane. Quatrte seemed inordinately curious about the system, and Duo wondered what his fascination with Epyon meant. He, personally, did not like to think about Zero, and he knew Quatre did not like to discuss his time under the influence of the system, but Epyon intrigued his friend.

He needed to ask why Zechs claimed Epyon did not lie.

"You would have expected him to call you something else?"

Zechs stared into the cooling soup and after a moment shrugged.

"I was Zechs Marquise in Oz. That was my name from the age of six, and all through my military career. I became a Peacecraft again once I was 'dead'. It was Milliardo Peacecraft who joined White Fang, not Zechs Marquise. It was Zechs Marquise who took on Dekim Barton."

Duo wanted to ask who it was, Peacecraft or Marquise, who worked for Preventers. Deciding it was not the appropriate time to ask how Zechs defined himself between the two personas, he focused on the question at hand.

"This guy called you Peacecraft? It might have something to do with an incident involving White Fang. That could narrow down possibilities"

"Or it might have had something to do with my past career as an undercover operative."

"Eh?" That lifted Duo's attention. "I thought you were Marquise in Oz. You were a spy?"

"I was a spy." Zechs drained his cup and relaxed back against the pack. "I worked undercover for Treize, until it became necessary to focus on the Alliance. Crystal, the project was called. Whoever named it was an idiot. It was not work teenagers should have been doing, but I was not a child. Not after Sanc. You grow up quickly witnessing such butchery, and you determine to never permit it's like to repeat." He paused, watching Duo. "But you know that, don't you? For you there was Maxwell Church."

"Yeah." Duo stared at his clenched hands. "Yeah, you don't stay a kid after watching that."

They listened to the cheerful crackle of the fire and the howling of wind, each wrapped in their own memories. It was not mid day and Duo found himself listening for Elfish voices. He shook himself, throwing off the mood and gathered up Marquise's discarded cup

"I found an old pot when I had a look around. I thought I might gather some snow and give it a bit of a clean out. I'll melt some snow and then boil water. There are teabags in the survival kit and a bit of coffee. I would not recommend you drink the coffee, but tea would be okay."

"Tea would be good, thank you."

"I'll get to that shortly. If you think this attack might have something to do with your past as a spy, does that mean you were using the name Peacecraft?"

"One mission I was assigned as a Crystal operative required I impersonate the dead Prince of Sanc."

At Duo's wide eyed look he smiled and shrugged. Duo snorted softly and waved a hand for him to continue.

"A rebel faction needed to believe I was Milliardo Peacecraft. Unfortunately it was not the most successful mission I had undertaken for Crystal, and people died. Messily. The Intelligence from Crystal was in error on a number of points, and in pulling me out of the mess Treize had to kill a few people his superiors wanted to question. It is possible my abduction might be related to the incident at the Green Kettle."

"Green Kettle?"

"The Green Kettle Inn." He stifled a yawn, rubbing absently at the pale bristles marking the beginning of a beard. "A small Inn in the back country of Ireland. Ten people died who should not have died. Crystal was disbanded pending an enquiry into the affair, and control of the group passed to a new command structure. The revised Crystal operated for another two years before Specials was ready to move against the Alliance."

"We need to talk about Crystal, particularly the mission you impersonated yourself. It has to be a possibility." Duo refrained from commenting there were many possibilities behind the attack.

Blue eyes drifted closed. "It could be related to any one of dozens of incidents in my chequered career as a killer." The quiet voice dropped lower, deeper. "I would appear to be a throwback to long gone days, when it was not so unthinkable a Prince of the House of Peacecraft could wilfully kill. Some would say it was the Elf taint in our blood; others might cower in fear and claim it the Viking coming through."

Duo blinked. The man was half asleep and drifting deeper, his physical resources taxed to the limit. It would be days, perhaps a week or three, before he would be fit. It was odd, Duo reflected, the sort of rubbish that came out of utter exhaustion.

"Now you are part Elf?" He grinned, hoping to lighten his mood.

"So it was whispered. There might be something to the old story." Fine lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, but blue eyes remained closed. "Elfkin are supposed to be next to impossible to kill, and they say the blood comes out every so many generations. How many times do I have to die before I will stay dead, Duo? I'm tired."

Duo watched him succumbed to sleep and sighed. It was at a person's most vulnerable point where the truth came out, and Marquise was at that low point.

"You are as lost as I am, just in a different way."

Taking the dirty dishes and the pot Duo left the cave. He picked his way across the iced over cabin floor and man handled the door open, staring at the growing snow drift in surprise. Near equal in height to his waist, he could only hope the wind would change direction and blow the snow away from the front of the cabin.

"Damn."

He eyed the roof warily, listening to the creaks and groans. Quickly scrubbing out the pot, he stuffed it full of snow and repeated the process with the two cups. He wanted to conserve their bottled water, and given the snow melt would be boiled he was not concerned with health issues.

Straightening he stared at the white out before entering the hut, forcing the door closed and retreating to the cave. While he waited for the water to melt he studied the sleeping man and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, a small smile twisting his lips.

//I guess living in the mountains could give rise to all sorts of weird assed stories. Elves. Right. Mind you, I could see Zechs as an Elf. Not one of those little things that supposedly fix shoes, but as one of the tall and stately Elves from books like Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Yeah, he's got the looks to be one of those. Just point the ears a bit and hey presto, Elf.//

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	15. Chapter 15

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to The Longest Day, Rescue. Minor to Bad Night Word count: 1,357

Series: Friends 15/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at Wing Diaries in the Single Authors section, http://www.gundam-wing-diaries. I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Featured character challenge: Characters Lady Une, Duo and Heero

Chapter 15

There was a time they had been enemies, when each would have thought nothing of silencing the other speedily and permanently.

Une inclined her head as Heero settled beside her. He never turned to look at her, his full attention seemingly on the young woman standing on the podium. He was Relena's bodyguard though he hoped to be much more. To be that 'more' he knew he had to give away his current position and trust another to protect her. To be that 'more' he had to find someone to take his place, and he was more than particular about who would be guarding her body.

Une, looking relaxed, cast a casual eye over the gathering. She wore her Preventer uniform as though it was a second skin, and ran a hand lightly over the skirt, noting with approval the attention Relena was receiving. The young politician worked tirelessly to maintain the peace and espoused one day there would be no need of an organization such as Preventer.

Une was not so trusting as Relena Darlian and knew there would always be the need for Preventers, though perhaps not in their current form. Operations requiring Black Ops operatives were a need she preferred to keep secret from such as Relena, who certainly would not approve. The young woman would have had a conniption fit if she chanced to discover her brother's occupation.

In Relena's view Peacecrafts were not killers.

Her brother was a dead man, and dead men had uses; for those who knew how to use them. Few people were aware of the Black Ops section of Preventers, and the Doves, those who preached peace and generally had no real idea what it took to keep said peace, certainly were not amongst them.

"Any news on the case?"

There was only one case Heero would trouble himself with beyond guarding Relena. The storm was easing and in a few hours it would be possible to get a chopper in the air. It had been one of the longest days Une could recall, though perhaps the worst of those long days would have been the first day without his Excellency. That day of all days had to have been the worst she had lived through. Each day without him was a long day, though this particular day seemed to be inclined never to end.

It was after the noon hour and the speeches would be concluding in the next ten minutes. The representatives would adjourn for lunch before Relena would be graced with a three hour break before her next engagement. Knowing the young woman Une suspected she would spend her break doing paperwork, unless Heero provided a distraction.

Personally she had yet to decide if she approved the match, though others had made their decisions. Some were heatedly opposed to it, and Une was not eager to be caught up in what would be a messy argument. It would begin quietly; a few words of caution and disapproval in quiet hallways from older political minds, discretely suggesting Relena rethink her political future.

With the exception of Duo Maxwell the identity of the Gundam pilots were not widely known, though people in highly placed positions did know the pilots identities. That one of the pilots might ensnare the 'Dove of Peace' in a romantic entanglement would be hotly debated behind closed doors. The consensus would be young women, even politicians like Relena, were invariably girls and romance would rob them of common sense… or political sense, as Une personally thought of it. Oh yes, there would be a great deal of discussion about Relena's prospective husband in the near future.

Certain people would give the nod to the match, others would stand back and give deeper consideration, and still others would vehemently disapprove. Relena would find there would be many with an opinion on her romantic entanglement.

//I will need to keep abreast of the situation.//

That was for later consideration, right now there were other matters of more importance.

"The latest meteorological reports suggest conditions will improve for a projected take off at approximately 17:00 hours this evening. It is not the local conditions holding up the rescue, but conditions on the mountain itself. You realize you may be on body recovery and not a rescue mission."

"Quatre believes Duo is alive and comfortable."

Une arched an eyebrow in silent query and tilted her head to the window, silently questioning anyone being comfortable in these conditions. They were separated from the assembly attending the speech, but positioned to best observe the gathering. No one would escape Heero's eagle eyed surveillance.

He shrugged slightly and watched Relena smile sweetly at her audience. Her aura of innocence was masterfully mixed with assurance, competence and strength and she held a unique position within the Earth Sphere Parliament. She made unashamed use of her unique positioning to maintain peace.

"Have you informed her of her brother's abduction?" Une murmured.

"No. Have you?"

"There are other matters of more concern to her at this time. Paperwork crossed my desk this morning for the lease of a helicopter from Winner Enterprises."

He had wondered when she would get to that. "Quatre had a unit, larger, heavier and more maneuverable than the Preventer craft. It was fully equipped for alpine conditions."

Une considered for a moment before consenting. "Good enough. Maxwell has quite a record for defying authority. He strikes me as being a loner, ill suited to following the dictates of a command structure."

He had known that was coming too. Duo was his preferred replacement, but gaining him the position was not going to be easy. Une was ex Oz and had a mindset that demanded one respect appropriate procedure.

"Experience has taught me he has had a reason for everything he has done. It may not be obvious at the beginning, but it becomes clear actions he takes assist in the resolution of a situation, and are generally not detrimental to a successful outcome."

"Preventers needs people who are aware of the necessity for a command structure and are willing to follow procedure. We do not need loose cannons."

He considered Une's comment as Relena launched into the final words of her speech, taking note of the restless movement amid the audience. Usually these affairs were timed to the last second for maximum attention from the listeners. Speak for too long and an audience would become distracted by private concerns in their lives.

"You want the best guarding her. I trust him."

Une pursed her lips. "You may trust him, but does Relena?"

"I believe so."

"Why?"

Heero blinked, the only betrayal of his surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Why would she trust him? To my knowledge Relena has spoken to him on a handful of occasions since the war. There is no animosity between them I am aware of, but why would she place her life in his hands?"

"I trust him."

"So, because you trust him, Relena trusts him and it is sufficient reason for me to clear Maxwell's way to join Preventers? I have to tell you, Mr. Yuy, it takes more than your say so. His past record speaks well of his skills, though not of his dealings with authority. He has little in the way of diplomatic skills, a requirement anyone associating with Relena long term must have. No liking for authority means he will not be particular about respecting required protocols. Maxwell, from his earliest records, has shown he is a law unto himself. Not a particularly glowing endorsement in my view."

Heero gave away no indication of his feelings on Une's carefully chosen words. It was made abundantly clear Une was not going to be inclined to welcome Duo with open arms. If he had not taken off as he had into the storm Duo would have had a better chance of gaining her approval.

"You will not sanction his appointment to her security?"

"At the present time, no. He would need to prove himself capable of toeing the line. I need disciplined people I can trust to carry out their assignments without disrespecting authority."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	16. Chapter 16

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Firestorm and Contest. Minor to Wind and Kiss. Word count: 1,682

Series: Friends 16/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 16

The fire crackled, new flame rising from the most recent piece added to the make shift hearth. He had salvaged more of the debris, stacking it neatly at the rear of the tent, well away from the flames. The last thing he needed was for the old wood to catch a stray spark and burst into flame. A firestorm in the pantry cave would be a death sentence.

Likely he would be able to escape, but Marquise was another matter. If he delayed escaping to rescue the weakened Prince of Sanc there would be two bodies crisping beneath devouring flame.

He witnessed enough of that during the war. It was because of such horrors he did not sleep soundly at night; nightmares haunting him frequently, despite his therapists best efforts.

In raging firestorms he had witnessed men and women, soldiers of the Alliance and Oz, die in blazing agony, their hair and clothes wreathed with flame. He had watched buildings explode into flame, sending bodies and debris into the air, flames spreading to engulf everything in their path.

//I never thought about it then. There was too much to do, too many places I had to be to deal out more death. To spread more destruction; more fire. More misery.//

He never allowed himself, during those terrible days, to think about the lives he took. From the safety of Deathscythe they had been nameless, faceless; non entities. They had not been real; they were not people but things. Of course he had known they were real people, but they were safely nameless, faceless and unknown. As such they were safe; safe to kill.

//God. That is sick.//

No one deserved to be dismissed so easily. Safe to kill. He was not cold, heartless evil. He liked to laugh, liked to eat and drink, to party. He liked to be a part of life. How many people, just like him, had he killed?

What was he to do?

The dead left him alone during the war, and now came to him at night.

Peace was a fact, not a dream, an ideal. Peace was real and now the dead walked through his dreams and pointed accusing fingers at him. They moaned their pain and horror, and their despair into his ears whenever he let his guard down.

It was the price attached to being Shinigami, a price paid when the world calmed so that he would not forget.

He did not sleep well at night. He tossed and turned, and on those nights they came he could hear himself screaming along with them. Something in him had died with them and he mourned it, though he did not recognize it. With the dead he screamed his head off until, mercifully, he would wake.

He had killed so many people in his short life, and for what?

"Peace." He snorted softly. "There is no such thing."

Blue eyes tinged with violet sought out the quiet figure within the warmth of the tent. He would need to check on Marquise, but for now the man could sleep. It would do him good, and there was no need for them both to wait out the day. The wind would ease soon, and then he could venture out to see how much effort it would take to free the helicopter.

He was expecting the task to take a few hours. Given the size of the snow drift creeping under the verandah it was a certainty much of the helicopter would need to be excavated. Then he would have to de-ice the mechanics of the rotors. Oh yes, there were a few hours of heavy work ahead, and Marquise was in no fit condition to assist.

With luck by the time he finished he would be so exhausted he would welcome sleep, and no amount of dead wandering through his dreams would stir him.

He had been invincible in Deathscythe.

He felt so vulnerable in the broad light of peace, stripped of his armour; naked. War had hidden him within the great suit, given him the powers of a God and he had been Shinigami. The God of Death. He had dealt death wherever he had gone, dispassionately, all the while ignoring what it meant to kill. Not just one or two, but hundreds at a time. His kill tally numbered in the thousands.

Did he honestly think there was no price to pay? To kill one person was unforgivable, what then the price to slaughter thousands?

He had been a naïve teenager, fed propaganda by the best, and convinced all he had been told was right.

He had entered into the war with his eyes open, determined to find peace and bring it to everyone. Had he understood what peace was?

All who opposed him were wrong and would find death at his hands; or he would, in turn, die. Such arrogance.

He had begun to entertain doubts as to the integrity of his superiors on receiving the briefing for Operation Meteor, and his Professor had told him to steal Deathscythe, and he had. Redemption, of a sort.

He had determined to make better use of the wonderful machine he was trained to pilot, and crimp the plans of those who had designed his Scythe for rebellion and slaughter. Over bearing innocence.

Perhaps ignorance was a better judgement there?

Were his intentions any more pure than those of a common Oz soldier, let alone the Alliance and the Specials?

Once he would have said, with unshakable certainty, yes.

Now he was not so certain.

He had crimped their design, inserting elements of his own, but what had he done with Deathscythe? He had gone to Earth, just as they had instructed him to do, and he had killed. He might have cut himself loose from the organization, but he still had gone about slaughtering soldiers. Just as had been intended in their original design.

He had killed and he had thought nothing of those deaths. Not then. Not even the possibility of his own death had been real to a fifteen year old who had witnessed death from plague, and from betrayal. He had survived the destruction of Maxwell Church; he had seen the result of rebellion and deceit.

Death should have been real to him.

That was why they recruited teenagers to pilot their machines. The only Gundam not intended for a teenager to pilot had been Heavy Arms. That Gundam had not been built for the one who piloted it to Earth, but for the one who died, shot in the back and his death hidden. The cockpit of Deathscythe was smaller than Heavy Arms, everything crammed into a small space an adult body would have found more than uncomfortable to squeeze into.

The Oz and Alliance Leo's and Aeries had been designed for full grown pilots. Kushrenada had designed the latter Tallgeese series and Epyon for an adult… for a large adult. His eyes flicked to the sleeping man and he rubbed at his face, trying to regain control of his thoughts.

He should not be doing this now.

His therapist claimed those who had trained him had wanted young pilots. Teenagers had no true concept of death, she explained. In hindsight he had to agree with her. He had had no idea what death really was, despite the plague and the massacre. When you were fifteen and survived a version of hell you did not recognize death as others, older and wiser, did.

What he had known of death had been anger, rage and revenge. He had grasped the idea of peace and dealt bloody ruin in its name.

"Wake up, Marquise, so I don't have to listen to my own thoughts." He whispered, feeding another piece of wood to the flames.

What was he trying to say to himself? He had survived and others had not. Some, a great many, had died because of his actions. He had witnessed so much death from afar it had become unreal. He had not been present when the Church had been destroyed, arriving in the aftermath. The concept of violent death was different to the bloody reality.

Had it changed life so much there would be no return to the wars; to the deaths and the destruction? Had they come so far there would be no repeated explosions spewing bodies and storms of flame into the air? Had they come far enough, as a race? Would mothers again weep for their children lying on shattered concrete runways, or red hot burning decks? Had they come far enough not to repeat the mistakes of the past?

In the contest of war who won? Did anyone truly win when man fought man? So much lost; lives, homes, ideals. Little personal things were the first to go; a lover's touch, a mother's kiss; a father's pride. Those left behind died a little each day, worrying for those fighting. Those who fought, battling for the ideals they believed in, struggling in a contest for supremacy, died a little each day, longing for the security of home; the love that nurtured them.

//Give it a rest, Maxwell. It's just another morbid, psychotic monologue. My therapist would shake her finger at me and tell me it was time to move on.//

He had tried. It was not as though he had not tried to get past it, but they were there, at night; waiting for him. Waiting to whisper in his ear, to accuse him, to call him names; killer, murderer…

It was nothing others had not experienced. Every soldier who had seen action and brought death to another knew the dreams. The accusations. The horror to be relived again and again; the moment when bright eyes dimmed, when that which made a person real, an individual and alive, departed and death left a shattered husk.

He had witnessed firestorms aplenty during the war, he had given birth to many in his Deathscythe. Through it all he had not once thought he would regret what he had done.

But he did.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	17. Chapter 17

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Green. Minor to Wind. Word count: 1,717

Series: Friends 17/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Challenge Characters: Trowa, Duo and Quatre

Chapter 17

"You will be piloting?"

Quatre stared out at the garden, blue eyes softening as he took in the wonderland the blizzard had made of the normally green landscape. The hardy children Sanc bred were out in force, his employees born and bred to the northern climate ignoring the biting cold air and the still falling snow. Those with free time watched their children run riot in the snow.

"I will. Chang will work navigation and Heero will co pilot."

"I wish I could go with you."

He was heartily tired of being The Winner. It had been bad enough as the Winner Heir, but being The Winner was more than a mere loadstone around his neck. The weight of responsibility threatened to grind him into the ground, the burden a little heavier with each day. He would give anything to throw dignity aside and run in the snow as the children did. He could build snowmen, have snow ball fights and laugh until his sides ached.

Young and carefree.

Allah, there were days he so wanted to laugh, and knew to do so would be to dissolve into helpless, hysterical weeping.

He hated being the person his father had intended him to be.

"Quatre?"

Dragging himself back to the moment he forced himself to smile. A shadow of the smile he once had laid claim to.

"How long before you depart?"

"I will need to leave for the airport in fifteen minutes. We should be airborne within an hour after that."

"Watch yourself. There will still be rogue air currents up there. You can easily be taken unawares; the highlands of Sanc are notorious for erratic winds."

Commercial air traffic avoided the mountains for that very reason. The runways of the airport were angled to keep their approach lanes as far from the treacherous region as humanly possible, but every few years a near crash would result. Three times in the last thirty years large commercial traffic had come to bloody grief.

Trowa knew all this.

He knew Trowa knew it, but he had to say something to keep himself under control. He ached to strip the business suit off his back and pull on a flight suit. He wanted to be on the helicopter with his friends, and he wanted to be flying the bird. He was a pilot and a damn fine one too. He could make the flight and his empathic tie to Duo, and awareness of Milliardo Peacecraft, would be enough for him to find them, without the aid of a global positioning unit.

There was so much he wanted to do in his life that he could not. A time was coming when he would scream long and loud. He would scream until he was hoarse. Not that it would do him any good.

"Quatre?"

Trowa was looking at him, concerned for his melancholy. Perhaps wondering if it was a reflection of what he sensed around him, or if it marked an emotion genuinely belonging to him.

"I know. You have to go. Duo is okay, I can still feel him. He's warm and comfortable, but feeling a little depressed. I assume Marquise may be sleeping and no distraction for him."

Trowa scowled, sighing. He was concerned for Duo, Quatre knew that, but Trowa was so strong in many ways, and sometimes he could not understand that even a Gundam Pilot had moments when he was entirely too human.

"He should be over the war now."

Quatre could only shake his head in denial. "No. There are no time limits on these things, Trowa. I still have nightmares of the war; of what I did. I still feel the guilt for my father's death. I…I had not…"

No, he would not go there. He had made this mistake for years after the war, blaming himself for every wrong imaginable, and he would not go back to the guilt. He had had enough of blaming himself exclusively for the wrongs in life. What was wrong with the ESUN he could try to fix; he could at least help to improve living conditions for those less fortunate than himself. What he must not do was blame himself for what he saw about him.

Injustice. Poverty. Hunger. Blackmail, anger and despair… It was all in the ether, laid open to his empathic ability, and if he weakened it became his fault such things existed. Duo had taught him he was better than that. His psychiatrist had earned her money to get him over that failing.

Some days he wondered if he was not the one who was poor. There were more important things in life than money, and they were things money simply could not buy. A person could be rich beyond the dreams of avarice and not have a credit to his name. True wealth, he had discovered, was not material in nature.

It was disturbing to him one of those people who cared not a fig for material things, namely Duo Maxwell, was suffering, and it was a pain only Duo himself could cure. Duo had little material wealth, but from the earliest time he had known him Duo had seemed so full of life. He had a zest; a faith in the good things, and he did not worry about mundane things only money could buy. Duo had been so much a part of that other wealth, and had shown him another world entirely. Lately Duo had lost that zest, that spice. His ability to laugh honestly.

He could help. For once he could use the material wealth he had in such abundance for his friend. He had convinced Duo, as once Duo had convinced him, to see a psychologist and he paid for Duo to see the very best. Seeing the woman had been a step forward for his friend, but until Duo was ready to let the past go, there was little anyone could do to help him.

"I had thought he and Hilde would be closer than they are."

Startled he glanced up at Trowa and shrugged. He had entertained a brief hope for something more to develop between the two, but he had realised quickly Duo was not sexually interested in Hilde. In fact, Quatre had detected little in the way of sexual interest in Duo at all. He was probably bisexual, Quatre suspected from the way he reacted to male and female alike, but those reactions had been little more than flickers of interest. Duo had not found someone who stirred a fire, not just a flicker of flame within him.

"Nothing more profound than friends, I am afraid. They fought recently, when Hilde revealed she was hoping for something more from him. Unfortunately Duo could not give her what she wanted."

"Unfortunate." Trowa determined, then elaborated, surprising Quatre. "That is what he needs to distract him from the past."

Quatre smiled, sliding into the offered embrace and sighing as he rested there. Trowa had wonderfully developed muscles and his arms, strong and sure around him, always made Quatre feel safe. It was stupid really, he was a big bad Gundam Pilot from the war to end all wars, and he loved nothing more than to be cuddled by his boyfriend. When Trowa embraced him everything seemed unimportant.

"Yes, I suppose that is what he needs, or will eventually. We all need love, but for Duo… not yet. He is not ready."

None of them could be for Duo what he needed. None of their elite group could fit his needs. Heero was interested in Relena Peacecraft, who now seemed to think playing hard to get would secure him. Surprisingly it seemed to be working, and Quatre derived a great deal of amusement from watching them.

Wu Fei also had a heterosexual orientation. He was showing interest in Sally Po, who was interested in his interest. They danced around each other, Sally thinking the four years separating their age too much, making her too old; Wu Fei considering himself too young for such a mature woman, even as he sought her out at every opportunity.

One day, and Quatre suspected it might be soon given the tension they were giving off; something would break in their relationship. They would either be at each others throats or locked in the throes of passion, and for his sanity it could not come soon enough for him. On his particularly sensitive days their intense restraint gave him a headache, and he could scream at them to get a life and have sex already.

How embarrassing that would be. He might gain a laugh out of the looks on their faces, which might make the embarrassment worthwhile, he mused, but it was of no help with Duo.

A strong finger hooked under his chin and turned his head up. He could see beneath the fall of hair into brilliant green eyes, and he basked in the love he saw and sensed there.

"Would you like to try with Duo?"

His heart clenched with reaction to Trowa's emotion. A hint of fear he was not enough for Quatre, curiosity as to what it might be like with Duo; fear again; Quatre, who had always been close to Duo after days in the desert, would prefer the other man. The deep well of warmth he equated to Trowa's love for him; the captivating, bottomless warmth he luxuriated in at every opportunity.

"No."

He felt the tension in his lover ease and could not blame Trowa. He also did not wish to chance breaking what they had together. Not even for Duo. There would be another solution; he merely needed to find it.

"Sex is a long way from what Duo needs. It is only a quick fix, and quick fixes never last a lifetime. Duo needs friends, Trowa. Real friends, not an interim lover."

For a few brief minutes he could luxuriate in his lover's arms. Together they watched the children in their games, the lights of the house bathing once green lawns and gardens as the snow fell. The blizzard might be over in New Port City, but in the high mountains the wind still blew, and the snow still fell.

"I had better go."

"Bring them back. Bring yourself back safely."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	18. Chapter 18

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Elf and Wind Minor to Rescue Word count: 2,305

Series: Friends 18/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 18

Duo frowned, slowly lifting his head. He listened intently, hardly daring to breathe. Was that a voice on the wind? Just for a moment he thought he heard a voice, but his certainty faded. Shaking off his tension he finished filling the pot and made his way back into the pantry, leaning the door into place.

Settling back at the fire he fed a few bits of wood onto the blaze, coaxing it to burn a little hotter before placing the pot to heat. He was looking forward to hot coffee, and he would make tea for Marquise when he woke.

The pot hissed as the flames licked at the moisture clinging to the old metal. Duo settled back to watch the snow melt and his frown returned, head rising as the hissing faded and he heard the whisper of voices carried on the wind. Tense he strained, wondering if his ghosts were to haunt him even in the light of day. When he heard nothing despite straining for a full minute he rose from the fire and moved to the barricade. Listening intently he could make out the howl of the wind and nothing more, though he thought perhaps it sounded less wild.

"Something wrong?"

His companion's voice startled him and he spun. Zechs had slept for the bulk of the day, and he had been left alone with his thoughts. There was a large pile of debris stacked at the rear of the pantry, sufficient to burn through the remainder of the day and the night. They would be comfortably warm until they settled down to sleep, and he had enough wood to light the fire in the morning.

He was limited for space in the pantry, and to keep his thoughts away from his ghosts and demons he had taken to stacking what he could salvage in the adjacent room. It offered some additional shelter to the gap marking the false wall, cut down the draft and made it less obvious there was a doorway. He had, however, been unable to fully escape his past and he had tried, once again, to face his personal fears. As always, he was not satisfied with his progress and doubted his therapist would be pleased.

"I thought I heard voices. I'll just go and have a look around."

Before Zechs could protest Duo slipped through the gap he opened between the door and the wall. Considering what Zechs had already survived Duo was careful to replace the wall, and pulled the stack of debris to further shelter the door. If by chance his tormentors had returned Duo did not want Zechs found easily.

In the pantry Zechs settled back against the pack, rummaging around in the personal effects Duo had taken from him. He found his watch and strapped it to his wrist, considering the dial in silence for a long moment. A slow smile curved his lips as he considered the time of day and the too serious attitude of the man who had rescued him.

"You are practical, like most of the colony bred. Overly practical. Perhaps it is time you learned another way of looking at the world." He tilted his head, listening to the wind and his smile widened.

Duo decided the wind had diminished, though it still ripped through the area and howled through the cracks in the cabin. Picking his way over the ice Duo peered through a window and grunted. From this angle the snow was piled up almost to head height. When the storm finally let up he would need to dig his way out.

"Well, maybe the wind has not eased so much after all. The snow is doing a damned fine job of burying us."

Slipping and sliding he made his way to the door, which he worked open after chipping away at newly formed ice. He would not offer himself up to a blizzard again in a hurry. The snow was not so high this deep beneath the veranda as it was at the more exposed window, but it was sufficient to become a bother when they were ready to escape.

Edging up to the drift he peered over the top at the falling snow. The quality of the light was changing and he guessed it must be sunset.

"Tomorrow. I should be able to dig out the chopper tomorrow."

Tomorrow the wind would die down sufficiently he need not fear the return flight. Tomorrow Marquise would be that much stronger, and he would feel it safe to leave the man unattended long enough for the arduous task. Tomorrow they would be able to return to civilization.

A high, fluting wail, distant and otherworldly drifted on the air.

Chills chased up and down Duo's spine and he froze, staring into the growing darkness. The sound was eerie, enchanting. It was high and pure, like a chorus of voices singing in the snow and it came on the wind, rising and falling as the gusts rattled the roof above his head.

Shivering, unaware he was hugging himself, Duo stared into the night, enraptured.

//Someone is singing? Out here?//

No, he decided after listening to a high note of harmony swirling on the wind. Surely no human throat could sound so clear, so pure and delicate, and be strong enough to defeat the howling of the wind. Long, high wailing notes, rising and falling in shattering cascades of sound, pure and beautiful beyond imagining, rent the night. Voices blended with the wind, soaring above the moaning of the trees, descending in graceful degrees with the snow fall.

For a long time Duo stood in the doorway, transfixed by the beauty of the sound, staring out into the darkness. His ghosts had never sung to him before. Never. They were more inclined to wail in grief and rage than sing something so hauntingly. There was no one out in this snow filled world, so who other than his ghosts could he be hearing?

"I'm going insane." He whispered. "After hearing that though… I don't think I mind."

A shower of ice crystals hit him in the face, signalling a change in wind direction, and the icy shower stirred him from his rapture. The voices were silent, the wind alone moaning in the trees; a very real and poor imitation of something so beautiful. Aware he was chilled to the bone he forced himself to move, to step back into the cabin and close the door against the cold. Trembling with more than cold he made his way back to the pantry, replaced the door after him, and threw himself down beside the fire.

To his relief Marquise asked no questions, silently watching the flames dance. Periodically Duo felt the icy blue eyes on him and knew there had to be questions the man wanted to ask, but he was grateful Marquise gave him time with his thoughts. It was not until Duo had warmed himself through and made tea and coffee that the blonde stirred.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it."

Duo hesitated. "What was?"

"The Elf Song."

Duo blanched. Elf song? He recalled Marquise speaking of legends, of the local people claiming to hear Elves singing in a blizzard at sunset. The song was said to mark the end of a blizzard, and despite the shiver that danced up his spine he snorted. Fantasy, superstition, impossible.

But it had been beautiful. Otherworldly. What was it he had heard, there in the freezing cold, his belly pressed to a snow drift, his hair freezing in the icy wind?

It had been beautiful. It was surprising what sounds the human throat could produce with the right training. Who in their right minds would hike through a blizzard to sing hymns to the snow was another matter entirely. There was always a logical explanation for odd events. What upset him was if there were people out there, why had they not offered rescue?

"There are no such things as Elves."

"Yet you heard them singing."

Marquise grinned, slowly pulling himself up into his half leaning, half propped position. With his wild fall of silver white bangs and a look that screamed mischief he might have been an Elf himself.

"I heard the wind in the trees."

But if Zechs was commenting on the eerie song did that not mean he heard it? Then it could not have been his ghosts singing to him, and that meant there had to be someone out in the blizzard. Perhaps he should go out and try to find them, before they died of exposure?

"How very mundane. A sound as pure and beautiful as that, and you put it down to the wind in the trees."

"No such things as Elves."

"Perhaps not to a practical realist like a colonist." Zechs murmured.

"I call a spade a spade. What fool would be wandering around in this? Wind in the trees, pure and simple."

"You don't believe that. I can see it in your eyes."

Duo rolled his eyes. "And they say I have too much imagination."

"Imagination is a good thing, generally. It needs to be exercised, to be given expression. It allows us to acknowledge more than the harsh reality of our existence."

Duo scowled. The therapist said he thought too much, he was driven to find an answer to every question and mystery in the world, and in the process he tended to bottle up his emotions. Emotions got in the way… no, that was wrong. It was only recent emotions that trapped him in the awful arms of guilt and memory.

"There is a rational explanation for everything in this life. You are a pilot, an Oz elite. I'd have thought superstitious nonsense would be below you."

Zechs sighed and set his tea to one side, considering the violet blue eyes looking at him with what looked suspiciously like an appeal. An appeal for something he could not quite name. Duo looked like he would crumble in the light of the fire, and Zechs had never seen the man look so vulnerable. He was not certain what he was seeing, or how to react to it, but he would know to watch for it in future.

"The three Elf Kings are a set of peaks to the east and north. I know our approximate location from the Elf Song. It can only be heard in certain areas of Sanc, and only high in the mountains to the south of those peaks. When a strong wind hits from a certain angle the rock is given voice. It only ever happens during blizzards from the North, as the sun is setting. I have heard it postulated it has much to do with the temperature of the air, the rock and the density of the snow fall. These factors, combined with a wind within a certain range of speed, and from a particular direction, give birth to the song." He arched an eyebrow at Duo. "Is that a soundly scientific enough explanation for you?"

Duo snorted softly. "It's more sensible than saying a group of Elves are frolicking in the snow, singing their heads off."

Marquise snickered softly. "It is not as quaint though."

Duo arched an eyebrow. "It's nothing more than a fairytale. This is not the Dark Ages we are living in. We are rational scientifically aware individuals, not some superstitious refugee from a bad B grade fantasy movie."

Crystal blue eyes shuttered briefly, white lashes lowering to hide their depths. "I have found it does not do to close out fantasy from one's life. Life can be harsh and unforgiving, and sometimes you need to escape its harsh coils. Reading books, the classics of myth and magic, and studying the mythologies of the world can be a welcome distraction."

Duo fed some jagged pieces of wood into the hungry flames. "It never pays to ignore reality."

"How can one ignore reality?" Zechs leaned his head back, sending a torrent of silver white hair down his arm. "I have found life has a nasty habit of biting me hard on the rump, and is thereafter most reluctant to let go. No, Duo, it is not reality that is the problem, but modern man. He chooses to see nothing but the harsh complexities of science, as it interacts with his world. Our subconscious minds need escape. It can be good for us to occasionally escape; to times when people did not know science, just the beauty of the world and could wonder at the mysteries surrounding them. Our ancestors knew how to look at the world and see more than we do."

Duo scratched absently at his chin, staring into the flames. "Well… I don't think it very sensible. What purpose would it serve? It's not real. We have to be practical. That is how you survive."

Zechs considered Duo for a long moment before taking up his tea and sipping, considering carefully before he ventured a comment.

"Which is the more captivating explanation for the sounds you heard? The rocks and air temperature, wind currents and snow density, or the thought of an elegant and ancient people? A people who can see and celebrate the beauty and very nature of the natural world? This Earth has a personality, Duo. It is a living breathing thing, and we are her children. If we refuse to see the world around us, and see only our invention called science, then we are missing so much of what is real. We have to be prepared to see more than molecules and atoms. I find this world I live in to be harsh and cruel, and losing myself in more ancient times is a welcome distraction from that reality. Even fantasy has a place in our lives."

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	19. Chapter 19

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Resolution. Minor to Wind, Rescue, Elf. Word count: 3,092

Series: Friends 19/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at Wing Diaries in the Single Authors section, http://www.gundam-wing-diaries. I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 19

Duo fed wood to the flames, gaining time to think, biting his tongue to refrain from calling the man a dreamer in a not so nice way.

"So you are saying, because the mountain is singing, the blizzard is ending?" He tried to keep his tone neutral, uncertain if he succeeded.

Marquise's eyes were hooded, but he knew the man was watching him. He could feel it. He was laughing at the gullible Colonial, and even as he thought it, he knew he misjudged his companion. Marquise did not strike him as the sort to find so base an amusement. There was more to this man than to gain pleasure from a warped joke.

"You will find the blizzard will abate in a matter of hours. From past experience I would estimate the wind would be much reduced here in four or five hours, and in an hour or so in New Port the wind would be negligible. It has always been so once the Elf Kings give voice. The snow will fall, perhaps for as long as another two days, but by dawn the wind will be down."

Duo glanced at his watch, leaning back from the fire. Enough talk about Elves and weird assed superstitions belonging in the Dark Ages.

"So I should be able to dig out the chopper when it gets light."

Zechs inclined his head in agreement and shifted his weight. Duo noticed and dusted off his hands, thankful for the chance to change the subject. The rescuer had obligations to the rescued, if the rescued party was injured, and he was neglecting said obligations.

"Need to pee? I'll get us something to eat shortly, but first things first."

Marquise nodded. "You are ever practical, are you not?"

Duo shrugged. "What is, is. Most times can't help it, sometimes can't understand it, but usually always notice it. It just is, so I deal."

One pale eyebrow arched regally. "An interesting philosophy on life."

Duo snorted, amused. "You think? On L2 you learn to call a spade a spade, and to keep your dreams down to surviving from one day to the next."

Through the necessary procedure of relieving his bladder Marquise watched his companion. He shivered at the cool air and was thankful to be tucked back into the sleeping bag, and through it all Duo was the ever practical, down to earth man he claimed to be. There was something there though, in the blue-violet eyes. Something lurking in the depths Zechs recognized. He knew the look; knew the expression.

"Do you dream at night?"

He could not mistake the shudder. Yes, he could see, Duo Maxwell did dream, and rarely pleasant dreams. He had been there, suffered through haunted nights, and faced the horrors of a past best forgotten. He had been there, and he recognized another who had witnessed the darkness and the terror.

"You don't forget the past, Duo, but you can't permit it to rule you."

The blue was replaced by a resentful flash of violet. It was odd how the man's moods were reflected in the colour of his eyes. The colour shifts could be quite subtle, but if you made a point of looking you could not miss it.

"What would you know about it?"

"As much as you, I expect, perhaps more."

He met the wide eyes, careful to give no hint of judgment. He had been there, and he had not enjoyed his sojourn in the shadowy places.

"I've been there, in the dark where the voices call to you; accusing and demanding answers to questions they never actually ask. There is only one question the untimely dead ask. I think it the only question they can ask. I've heard it too often. Why. The dead always want to know 'why'."

Duo's mouth worked for a few strained seconds as he tried to get words past the constriction in his throat. Wanting desperately to tell the man to shut up and unable to get the words out, Duo finally fled the pantry.

He wanted to scream at Marquise, to tell him to shut the fuck up, that he knew nothing. How could someone like Marquise, in his cushy comfortable life, know about the darkness and the endless 'Why'? Somewhere in the darkness there would be voices asking questions, but he could never quite hear them. He only ever heard the 'why'.

How could a man like Marquise know of his personal purgatory?

In the pantry Zechs sighed, rolling his head across his shoulders slowly, trying to ease cramped muscles. It would take a few minutes for Duo to recall who it was who had spoken those telling words. Though they were separated by their births, each had faced hell, and Duo would remember that. Eventually.

He had walked those shattered, crumbling halls.

Duo would return and accuse him, possibly become defensive and verbally abusive. He knew it would happen, after all, he had done the same thing.

"You get used to it after a while, Mr. Maxwell." He murmured. "You learn to exorcise the terror. In time you learn to control the dreams, and if you don't, you go insane."

Duo would learn. No one wanted to become a gibbering idiot, and he assumed Duo had already started treatment. He doubted the nightmares were a recent thing, and given Duo was still sane and looked healthy he had to be seeing a psychiatrist. It was one of the first, and best steps, he could take. It was not an easy step, no one wanted to admit they were afraid of their dreams, that they saw the dead; that the dead accused them.

"At least you have friends to help."

He waited, patient, half dozing when Duo did not return immediately. He had not felt the air pressure change in the pantry as it did when the outer door was opened, so he did not fear his companion had caste caution to the wind and run out into the blizzard. Duo struck him as being entirely too sensible to take so foolish a step. He could wait. Duo would return and either abuse him verbally for interfering where he had no right, or he would ignore the matter entirely and get on with the business of surviving.

Maxwell was nothing if not practical.

For those who had walked through Hell there came a time of resolution. Some resolved their problems by taking that final and terrible step. A step he could never take himself. He had been taught suicide was no escape, that it presented more problems for those you left behind than you presented to them alive. No, to end it all was not his way, and he doubted, from what he had observed of Duo, that it would be his way either.

"My shrink says I need to face them. Well, It, she says, not Them. She refuses to give Them an identity."

He did not look up from studying his hands. He waited, half expecting further comment to be made, and when he heard rummaging in a pack he stirred. Duo was checking through the meal packs, being careful not to look at him.

The firelight stuck off the fine boned planes of his face, turning him into something closely resembling the elves Duo scoffed at. He was a good looking man, and Zechs wondered if the nightmares had reached the stage where Duo chose to avoid liaisons with the fairer sex.

Even Amazons like Noin could not indefinitely cope with the terrors that visited during his nights. He had learned to keep a distance, not for himself, but for the safety of his partner.

Sex was much overrated anyway.

"There were thousands of them in my dreams, always accusing me, damning me. Asking the infernal question. Always 'Why'."

"Yeah." Duo separated a food pack and scratched at the stubble forming on his chin. "I have a lot. I wonder if I could really have killed so many."

He needed hope, Zechs could see. Some small hope the dreams would one day be gone, and he could find rest in sleep. He might be able to help there, though surely Maxwell had had this discussion with his friends? They would face it together, his friends backing him up, and for Duo there would be no need for some of the dead to take pity on him.

Still, he could give Maxwell hope.

"I only have one now. He wears Treize's face, but he speaks for them all. He doesn't ask why anymore, he just watches, and every now and then he tells me to get a better life."

Duo sat on his heels and studied the blonde, the food pack clutched in his fingers. "You had thousands and now… now you have one?"

"Yes."

The big eyes were wide and very blue. Maxwell had unusual eyes, not merely their colour, but their size. They served to enhance that elfish look Duo would refute, should Zechs mention it.

"I don't… how?" He was all attention, eyes bright, forgetting his discomfort. There was such a need in him to learn a way to escape the horror.

Zechs could not help the twisted smile, wondering if Duo would name him insane. "I resolved my issues with them."

"You resolved… How? They're dead. Not real. Figments of imagination."

"That is why you dismiss the use of imagination?"

Zechs shifted slightly, seeking to make himself comfortable and wishing for his own bed. He felt he owed it to this younger man to reveal his catharsis, the turning point in his slide to insanity. He was sane during the Libra affair, though no one would believe him. He had known exactly what he was doing; exactly what conditions needed to be met, for the human race to wake up to itself.

But it was much more convenient for the world to think he was insane.

"Something snapped one night, and I screamed at them, not because of them. While I was screaming I told them exactly why they died; why some of us live and some of us die. I was ready to beg them to just leave me alone, and somewhere in the dream, I believed. At some point I believed they would understand, and they would leave me in peace."

Duo stared at him. "And it worked?"

Watching him Duo could not miss the flicker in the ice blue eyes, the momentary look he would have named as being somewhere between amazement and wonder. Marquise was being honest with him. The man believed every word he said was the truth.

"Yes." The deep voice seemed to fill the pantry.

"It can't be that easy." He breathed.

"It is far from easy, Duo." Zechs eased himself up, relieving his backache. "We have to deal, as best we can, with our pasts and our present, to attain something better for the future. The first thing you need to do when you become aware of yourself in the shadow places is admit who you are. Admit to yourself who you are, and what you are, and that you are real. If you are real then you have control. You are in a dream and it is your dream, and you are in control of everything that happens there."

"But I'm not." Duo whispered.

"But you will be. You need to be. Stop is a wonderful word, Duo. It is a command word, a word that says it all in one simple step. The second thing you need to do after you become aware of yourself, is to tell your tormentors to stop. You have to mean it, Duo. You can't be terrified, you must be firm. You must be in command; your word must be law. It's your dream, after all, and who else should command it?"

Duo was a statue in the flickering light. Zechs watched him, noting the flicker of his eyes, seeking out the dark corners of the pantry. Duo was on edge, hyper aware, listening with every fibre of his being. He was not dismissing any of what he was being told, not yet.

"When you have their attention, when you have them silent, that is the time to tell them."

"But what do I tell them? I'm sorry? I don't know why it happened the way it happened? I don't know why I am alive and they are dead? What do I tell them to make them go away?"

"Sometimes people need to die to achieve. For a goal to be reached some will die; some will be hurt, and some will never understand. For the greater good. They are words I loath, Duo. How often in the past, in the name of the greater good, have millions died? In the name of the greater good, man abuses man. In the name of the greater good, I screamed my lungs out every night for years, until I understood."

He found his fingers were clenched tight and he relaxed with a visible effort, feeling drained and tired. He only hoped Duo listened and believe.

"I understood I was not seeing the dead haunting me. I understood I was not listening to the dead ask me why. I didn't need to hold on to those horrible words any longer. For the greater good." He shook his head, a wealth of blonde hair falling over his shoulders. "I didn't need to see everyone who had died, whether at my hand or not, to know people died. I did not need to be haunted at night, every night, for years on end, to know I had taken part in horrors unimaginable by those who see only what they want to see. When I finished screaming at the dead, when I finished telling them why I had held on to them, there was only Treize there." Blue eyes were covered by lowered lashes and he whispered. "He was applauding."

Duo found his hands were hurting, so hard was he holding the food pack. The man rugged up in the combined sleeping bags was dead serious. He believed what he said.

"That's just…. Weird, man."

"I choose not to wallow in the past, Duo. I am not one to consider taking my own life though in the past I thought my future would end in death. Eventually it will, though it appears, not yet. I had reached a breaking point. It was better after that. Treize comes and goes through my dreams, but I don't scream myself hoarse at night. I still have incidents of nightmares, don't think I am free of them entirely, no one is; not even those who have never known war. My nightmares are no longer haunted by the dead demanding to know why. They are just nightmares, sometimes memories of incidents I deeply regret, but which needed to be done. I know they are dreams, and I have enough control now to know when it gets bad I can stop it. I have the control to say 'stop', and mean no more. There are some memories harder to deal with than others, especially the blurred times from when I was too young to affect the outcome of massacre. Those nightmares are different, and not even Treize can help me, only time can; and me retaining control."

"You think if I scream at my dead they will go away?"

Ever practical Duo, who could not seem to take the step around fact, into something else. There was an imagination in that bright inquisitive mind. He needed to find it and exercise it, and above all, learn to enjoy it.

Zechs smiled gently. "No. Perhaps some might, but screaming does not have to be your way. Telling my dead my life's history worked for me, and there were times I howled my frustration at them; and other moments when I wept. The dead did not haunt me, I held on to them. I needed to understand that and let them go. You are not me, but the principle will be the same."

Duo scowled. "So why bother telling me about it?"

"Because you needed to hear it. We do not ask to be born, Duo. I was born into the Royal Family, it was not something I asked for; unless in some other life, or place, these things can be arranged." He grinned at Duo's glare. "I did not ask for it any more than you asked to be born to L2."

"Well, that much is fact." Duo muttered.

"Have a little faith. Embrace your imagination. It is a release from the everyday realities we need. It can enable you to look at things from a wider perspective."

"Never a good thing on the streets. Here and now, the next meal, a place to sleep that was safe. That was your concern on the streets."

"You are not on the streets now." He murmured. "I did not ask to survive the massacre of Sanc, but I did. I can dimly recall my nurse telling me we are born for a reason, and we die for a reason. Sometimes we never understand why things happen the way they do, and other times we see all too clearly. No two people live the same life, but there are some things we can do to help others. We can help or harm, that is our choice."

Duo met the intense blue gaze and this time he did not look away. "I fought to bring Peace to the colonies."

"I fought for Peace for everyone. Next time your dead visit you, talk to them. Don't run from them; don't hide. You may find those amongst them who are not there to ask that infernal 'why'. They are the ones who will be there to help you deal with it; the one's who will be there when the masses are gone."

"Kushrenada was there for you?"

"Yes. Otto and Walker as well. They are names of people you don't know, but they were my friends and colleagues, and it seems even in death, they cared. Don't run from your dead next time. Assert your authority in the dreamscape and stop the chaos. Bring it to order. When you have done that, you can face them. Have you ever tried to see individual faces in the crowd demanding your attention?"

"No." Duo whispered.

"Then try. You might be surprised."

He was surprised, but not about his dead. He was surprised Marquise would talk to him like this.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	20. Chapter 20

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Retribution, Shadows Minor to Murder Word count: 1,857

Series: Friends 20/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 20

Who had targeted him?

Who had developed balls enough to beard him in his den?

An open challenge he could tolerate; an honest challenge contained honour and equal risk between rivals. There was no honour in this attack upon his person and that, more than the attempt, he could not abide.

Who was it who had circumvented his alarm system to enter his home and set the trap that took him down, without risk to their own hide?

Who had skill enough with the security system to remove, from the security log, any entry records? He was careful with his security, and had checked the log before he had entered the estate, and again before he had entered the house.

Who, after all this time, had crossed the line and determined to act against him?

Who had decided he was better off dead?

The kill was undoubtedly revenge motivated. He could not expect it to be easy to unravel the knot and reveal what lay concealed.

To identify his murderer would require he determine which of his past deeds had incurred such festering hatred. Simply saying it was about revenge would not assist in identifying the perpetrator, nor would it lead him deeper into the intricacies lying beneath.

His killer had links to one, or more, of the few persons who knew he was alive. Further they had links to someone who knew his security system on an intimate basis. The person who provided the information to the killer would need to be identified, and he would not, could not, afford to leave them unchastised.

Few knew where he lived, fewer knew how to access his home, and not all of them would know when he was on assignment. They had needed the house empty for the trap to be laid, and they would have to have known his time of return to trigger the trap. That information was not easy to come by, it was classed as somewhat more than merely classified, and who ever had leaked the information had earned a visit from him.

He could not afford to let it pass.

//It could be Une herself, and if that is the case…// He stared into the dancing flames for a long while, considering the implications. //I don't care.//

The realization surprised him.

He did not care if the power behind the assassination was revealed to be Une herself. Not for an instant could he believe she might have unwittingly given this information to his would be killer. It was too much to think Une might have made such a mistake with an operative's life.

He was supposed to be dead. There was supposed to be no record of his continued existence on any computer system in the ESUN. He was their Ace, their trump card in the sordid, dirty business of interplanetary politics. He was their bogeyman, their insurance, until such time as they determined they no longer needed a Black Ops operative. Given the current political climate, and the unrest developing over the mining rights on Mars, he could not see the end of his dark career in the immediate future.

He might have expected Une to order his death, if the Earth Sphere was more settled.

His file did not officially exist, and information pertaining to him would not be given out to every lunatic hell bent on ending his days.

//They are not finished with me yet, though there are times I wish it was all over.//

He had died in the past, as a child, as a teenager; as an innocent and as the villain of the Earth Sphere. He should have died at least twice on missions in his current role, and he should have died this time, in the cold and isolation of the Sanc high country.

He was heartily tired of finding himself breathing, despite the best efforts of others to end his days. If it was not his time, and obviously it was not, then so be it.

He had to draw a line somewhere and, twisted as it was, this was it. The would be killer would find himself staring down the barrel of a gun, though perhaps a knife across the throat would be more satisfying. The man had been enjoying himself too much as he went about his sick work.

//Psycho. Utterly insane.//

The one who had tried to kill him would die, but it would not stop there. He had had enough, and he would need to make certain those who presumed to hold his leash understood this dog was no rabid beast to be put down. He would reveal to them he was a wolf, a hunter, no lap dog; when his chain was jerked he was capable of biting the hand that fed him.

//Metaphors.// He snorted softly. //Idiot.//

No one would be laughing when he moved against them.

The insane one who had sought murder would die; he could not leave that one wandering about the world. The man would continue to kill, now that he had tasted it. He had felt the sickness, could feel it even now. The Revenge Seeker, and those who had assisted him in his endeavour, would know the rewards of their failure.

They really should have made sure he was dead.

They could have made certain the insane, sadistic bastard had made a quick and clean kill. He could not abide the cruelty of the method of his latest death.

The sick son of a bitch deserved to meet him again, and his reaction would be interesting when a ghost visited, smiling, with knife in hand.

//Ah, no, control. Control, Marquise, you fool. There is no honour in losing all sanity. I've had enough of the Dark Road into dreams.//

He would not make the mistake of inviting back the nightmares; of having a new face haunt him, a new voice asking the ever infernal why.

There would be no haunting, either of the sadistic bastard or of his nightmares, but he was not going to let the matter lie. If they thought they were safe, they had another think coming. While no one could try his killer in a court of law for killing a man already dead, he personally would not permit the man to walk free.

It sucked to be officially dead.

But even he would have justice, though he would need to exact it himself.

Someone wanted him finally laid in the ground.

Did they honestly expect him to leave it alone; to ignore the implications behind this attempt? Did they expect him to walk away and permit them their farcical investigation? It would be dismissed as an isolated incident of coincidences, culminating in the madman gaining classified information. A one off, unusual circumstance which would not repeat.

Until one of them succeeded in bringing him down.

He would have retribution, it was his right. He had been left to die, again, and if not for the timely interference of one Duo Maxwell, he would indeed be dead.

It was possible Une had a hand in the plot, though the woman was eminently practical since her two personalities merged. Much as she denied the need in public, she had backed the formation of a Black Ops unit. When all else failed, negotiations, bribery, blackmail; when there was no other recourse to address a problem, he was it. The solution.

Single, solitary him. Zechs Marquise. Already steeped in the blood of thousands and conveniently, officially quite dead.

Oh yes, Une had her uses for him and his skills learned at the behest of the man she revered above all others. There were sufficient black spots lurking within the ESUN to convince him she would not lightly deem him obsolete at this time. She would not hesitate, when the time came, as it eventually must, to rid the planet of the blight she considered him to be.

So then, perhaps not Une.

It needed to be someone placed highly in the ESUN. Given the classification of his file, only half a dozen possibilities presented themselves immediately to mind. There would be the odd aide to be investigated, but somewhere there would be a link and he would find it.

He could not afford to have them think he would not respond to this challenge. It was a matter of honour to his mind, and Treize had taught him to mind such matters. Treize had taught him never to leave his back undefended. Everyone involved would meet his retribution, in exact coinage equalling their contribution to the contract of debt.

Someone had been exceedingly well paid; the question was in what currency had the payment come. The payment might not necessarily reflect financial gain. He must detail all involved and discover their weak point, and their new wealth.

Someone had wanted him dead, and not wanted to soil their hands. Their philosophy was clear enough. Give their weapon the information and equipment needed to take down the target; let him take the fall should there be a hitch and the plan was not execute efficiently.

//I wonder if there is a contract on me with the Dark Path?//

He was quite familiar with the Dark Path. The dark and dirty dealings, the contract killings; illegal sales ranging from the slave trade to industrial espionage and drug running. Oh yes, he knew the dark path; he walked those ways as a shadow within shadows, and he hated it.

It did, however, enable him to survive.

Though for what he survived he did not, as yet, know.

How did the pampered son of an ancient line of Kings become a walking dead man, steeped in blood and shadow? How had he come to this point in his life? It was a long and convoluted path he walked, a path growing progressively darker. So deep were the shadows on occasion, he wondered if there ever would be light at the end of the road.

He wanted release, and cursed the fool who had not killed him cleanly. They always had to gloat; to play with their kill. Release had never been further from him than it was at this moment.

He was tired, of the blood and the secrets, and the shadows.

//Is there anywhere within the ESUN I can find sanctuary? An escape from this filth I walk through? They should walk in my shoes for a time, and see how clean their hands remain.//

If he could find a place where he could escape them; if he could find a place where he could stand in sunlight in complete anonymity, he would not hesitate. He would arrange his own death, and this time, ensure no one could reach him, to drag him back into the mire.

Was there someplace he could go, if he arranged for his own death?

//Probably not.//

So much for the peace Treize had convinced him to fight for. So much for the brighter days they had planned, when there would be no war and the human race would walk a brighter, more enlightened path.

So much for peace.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	21. Chapter 21

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadow and Anger Minor to Word count: 1,517

Series: Friends 21/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at Wing Diaries http://www.gundam-wing-diaries. I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Chapter 21

"What you said yesterday. About Epyon."

Blue eyes lifted from the fire, centreing on him with the arch of an eyebrow. The mind behind those eyes had been a long way away from the cabin in the mountains, and it seemed to take a moment before Marquise recognized his surroundings.

"Epyon? What did I say?"

Duo rubbed his hands together, presenting them to the fire to bathe in the warmth. He was not cold; it was a gesture that offered comfort to the growing unease.

"It was while I was waiting for you to regain consciousness. I was rambling on and I thought you were out of it at the time. I don't always do well in silences, especially if I am not comfortable with my surroundings, and I definitely do not like blizzards. I was talking to hear a friendly voice, I guess, and I was saying about how Zero lied, and Epyon lied too. Next thing I knew you were saying no, Epyon didn't lie. It told the truth."

"Ah." The breath of a whisper and blue eyes shuttered. "Yes. Epyon."

Uncertain if the man was merely deep in thought or suffering some effect of his injuries, Duo had hoped by making the observation he might initiate conversation. For the last hour or so, since Marquise had woken and his physical needs attended to, the blonde had descended into a worrying period of what Duo fervently hoped was nothing more than silent brooding. His efforts at conversation had earned a grunt or two, and he was sure the man had not heard a word he said.

Something deeply buried within Dup stirred, wary and alert. It was an old reaction, an instinctive response triggered by the proximity to trouble. It was different to his awareness which had initiated his presence here, despite all sensible argument to the contrary. He had come to rescue a man who might not have needed rescuing, on the strength of something intangible, something he had felt before and had proven to be a viable concern.

That familiar itch, the driving need was not this unease now stirring. What he sensed now he knew on an instinctive level was danger from a source close at hand. The more he watched the blonde the more certain he was the man was becoming dangerous. Anger. There was growing anger in the big blonde and despite his physical condition it would be a mistake to discount his competence.

It felt disturbingly like his worst brooding moments, when his darkest thoughts surfaced to torment him, and he must explode into violence to release some of the pressure. There was anger, a deep building rage that would fester and brew until it must burst. Duo knew this danger, and it was not he who was the source of the impending violence.

L2 survival instinct.

Marquise out weighed him and was stronger, though given their situation he would hardly be at full strength. He would be honest in his assessment and give the man the same respect he would give to one of his fellow Gundam Pilots. When they were wounded and seemingly without hope, they were at their most dangerous.

If Marquise snapped it would not be pretty.

But the man had been mannerly, very approachable, a good conversationalist and outright friendly until this last hour. Duo had his dark moments and he could understand the self torture to be found within them. He was not exactly afraid of Marquise, but he was afraid of the need to act physically against a man who already was injured. He had come to rescue him, not fight him to a standstill until the anger dispersed and sanity returned.

"Yeah, well?" He could not afford to let the silence lengthen; he needed to get the man talking.

Given where Marquise had walked he could imagine the horrors he was capable of perpetrating. His hands had been steeped in blood for years, and when he thought dark thoughts they would be dark indeed. Duo was certain he needed to work on lightening the atmosphere, on distracting him with a common interest. He was not certain about the memory of that moment as Marquise had rejoined the land of the living, but it offered at least the chance to talk.

One thing they had in common was mobile suits.

Given the man he had glimpsed before this moment, it was tragic that circumstance had shaped the colder, darker persona, warping the gentler, intelligent man he had witnessed. Marquise was intelligent, possessed courage and bravery, and a will to improve the lives of those around him, no matter the cost to himself. There was only so much one could give in this fashion, before the darkness covered one in shadows and anger. Marquise would have been a very different man had tragedy not visited his childhood, casting him onto the road he now walked.

The blonde head tilted to one side and Marquise seemed to shudder. A delicate trembling, shuddering through his entire body, and it had nothing to do with the cold. There and gone in the blink of an eye, but Duo saw and recognized it. His timing had been impeccable and he had intervened before Marquise could submerge himself in the dark.

There were more nightmares than those you dreamed.

"I generally make it a rule not to discuss Epyon."

The husky voice was low, neutral, giving him the opportunity to chance the subject. Duo knew the blonde would welcome a change of subject; mobile suits were a part of the darkness, and Epyon could probably be considered the darkest moment of all.

"I like talking about Scythe. I miss him." The admission came easily to Duo. "He never seemed to be just a Mobile Suit, you know? He was more a friend."

He would not specifically mention Epyon, unless Marquise gave him an opening. They could talk mobile suits, or just about Deathscythe, so long as the silence was filled and Marquise was distracted.

"You were fortunate to find the bond with the AI unit."

THE bond, Duo noted, not A bond. Nor was Marquise humouring him before telling him he let his imagination run rampant. Marquise had experienced it then. The question was, Duo knew, with which suit?

"Yeah. Guess I was, but I wasn't the only one amongst the pilots to form a bond with an AI. We all were aware of the personality in the suits."

Pale lashes lowered, a flimsy shield against the eyes watching and seeing more than he was comfortable with. "I always found it amusing the designers disclaimed the existence of a personality in the AI system of the advanced Mobile Suits."

Duo snorted, not yet beginning to relax, but aware the tension in Marquise was easing.

"Yeah. G kept telling me to grow up and stop imagining things. It was a computer program, a bunch of circuits on a board and a heap of wires and metal." He interlocked his fingers and found himself smiling into the church steeple he had fashioned. "Here is the church, open the doors, and here are all the people." He sighed, his fingers wiggling in the air. "Damn, it's been a long time since I thought of that. Sister Helen taught me. Silly thing."

"It is the often silly things that hold the dearest memories." The deep voice was quiet and Duo sensed something shift.

Glancing up he shrugged. One minute he was talking to Zechs Marquise and the next he would find himself looking at Milliardo Peacecraft. Which of the two was the more dangerous he did not know, but this man before him now was not filled with the rage of minutes ago. There appeared to be two distinct personalities, though at this moment he suspected there was a third persona, one who was an amalgamation of the two.

This was the man who had told him about the nightmares and how to face them; perhaps how to beat them. He did not know this man's name, but he liked this one better than the other two.

"Shadow games." Duo murmured, looking back at his fingers. "We are avoiding things, dancing around all the time."

"Of course. It is the human condition to avoid the inevitable, for as long as humanly possible."

And while he could avoid the topic of Epyon, Milliardo Peacedcraft and Zechs Marquise, he would. The less he spoke of the Mobile Suit and its unique operating system the better, though he could hardly explain that to the braided young man across from him.

Disturbingly he was aware if anyone would understand it would be a Gundam Pilot. Certainly he suspected Duo would understand his viewpoint, but it was safest not to raise old ghosts.

Shadow days. Living nightmares. Haunting by a machine intelligence not supposed to be able to think beyond mathematical equations.

They had gone through hell and for what?

Given his current occupation he had to ask if humans were so dense they could not learn any lesson and remember it beyond a year or two.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	22. Chapter 22

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Wind Minor to Bad Night Word count: 1,592

Series: Friends 22/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts. Unbetaed and Aussie spelling.

Chapter 22

Strong fingers gripped the flight stick with confidence, leather gloves providing a welcome measure of warmth. The cockpit of the helicopter was frigid, the heaters seeming to have little effect on the onboard temperature.

"The wind is worse than I thought it would be." Trowa leaned in through the door, staring into the blacker than black that was the night.

"We were warned the air currents would be bad." Heero ran a practised eye over the controls, checking for any flicker suggesting they might be developing trouble. "It would have been worse when Maxwell flew this course."

"He is the better pilot." Trowa murmured.

"You think you can fly this bird better?" Wu Fei glanced up from the map spread across his lap.

"No. Heero is the better pilot here and now. My point is it is a bad night for flying, and I do not see much in the way of improvement for the next few hours."

A soft grunt from the pilot was the only response and Chang dropped his head once more to study the map. Barton was being honest and he had to admit not only Heero's flying skills were required, bit in this wind his strength was an advantage. The helicopter bucked and swayed to the winds buffeting, threatening to pitch them into dives and then heave them up, before plunging them down once more.

He was navigator on this flight and his job was to work in conjunction with the GPS system and the detailed topographical maps of the area. He was to find a suitable landing site close to the coordinates they had received earlier in the night.

Trowa remained braced in the doorway, staring out into the darkness. All the powerful lights of the helicopter showed was thick snow and darkness. Black and white. Somewhere out there in the night, there were ragged peaks with forested slopes, and if the wind won the struggle they would be a smear amid the high country

Not exactly a pleasant thought.

He would not forget the wind that had trapped them in the city for more than a day. Any sane pilot would still be grounded, unwilling to flying in these conditions. They were Preventers, and a little thing like gusty winds would not contain them.

He would prefer to be back in New Port City, curled up before a roaring log fire, with his own personal cat tucked close to his heart. It was when he was happiest, holding Quatre. It was when he felt the most secure. It did not help he could see beads of sweat on Yuy's brow.

"Chang, have you found us a landing site yet?" He was anxious to get out of the air.

A fine boned hand swatted absently at a stray lock of black hair. Wu Fei stared hard at the GPS unit for a moment, and then straightened in his seat.

"I do not like it, and neither will either of you, but it is the best we are going to do. We will need to land a good two kilometres from the coordinates we were given. From the topographic map, and what I have gleaned from the satellite registering the location transponder on the other unit, the helicopter Duo flew is in the clearing designated by the coordinates. There will not be sufficient room to set this bird down alongside."

"Damn. Two kilometres from the position?" Heero shook his head, unhappy with the idea of walking the distance in the existing conditions. "A long, uncomfortable walk."

"We have hand navigation units, direct satellite feeds and survival gear. We will be cold and uncomfortable, but we will know where we are going. On the plus side, the trees should offer us some shelter from the wind." Wu Fei punched a set of coordinates into the navigation system. "These coordinates will take us to a clearing large enough to safely land. It is the closest suitable location to the coordinates Duo was working from."

Heero considered the new destination for a long moment and nodded his acceptance. He trusted Chang to find the best alternate landing site, and they would make do.

"When we land we will determine if it will be best to walk the distance to whatever shelter Maxwell is using, or erect the tents and stay the night by the chopper. Trowa, can you…"

"I'm on it." Trowa pushed himself off from the doorframe and turned away. "I'll have packs ready for us by the time we land."

Alone in the main body of the machine Trowa began to rummage through the supplies, sorting out what he decided would be least likely to be required. If they made the trek tonight then first thing in the morning they would return to the helicopter and proceed back to Sanc.

Regardless of where they spent the night he was not expecting to be comfortable, and certainly walking in these conditions, in darkness or in daylight, would be far from a pleasure. He had slept rough in ill weather before, and he most likely would do so again. He would not mind so much if he had Quatre to cuddle up to in the tight confines of a sleeping bag.

The thought drew a smirk he was thankful no one could see. //I might suggest to him we should go camping in the snow. He would hate the experience, but I am confident he would enjoy the sleeping arrangements. I'm not sure how much sleep we would get, but I don't think that would be a problem.//

In the cockpit Chang stirred, leaning around his seat to check on the location of Trowa. "What did Une say to do about Marquise?"

Heero glanced briefly at his companion. "Two words. Low key."

"Ahh. Yes, I thought it might be something like that. Did she give a location to deliver him to?"

Heero was silent while he fought a brief round of violent shuddering by the machine, the winds threatening to force them down.

"No. I am expecting further instruction to come over a secured band."

Chang rubbed absently at his cheek, brushing aside a fine strand of hair. "A black ops unit; a Preventers exclusive, or a Government initiative?"

Heero considered the question for a moment before nodding, one small dip of his head. "Yes."

Yuy considered the unit to be set up for use by select government agencies, including Preventers, which agreed with Chang's own assessment. A joint Operations Unit would explain why there were no Black Ops Division files to be found on the Preventer network. They had both searched the database on more than one occasion, and for more than one reason.

"How big do you think it is?"

"Small. It would have to be very small, with select personnel to escape detection this long. Very discrete." Yuy fought a sudden spate of shudders in the machine.

Chang nodded, glancing back toward the cabin, and seeing no sign of Trowa he turned to his companion. "I thought we were the elites, the special agents given the vital, most dangerous assignments to keep the peace. Given some of our missions, I have to wonder just what the black ops are dealing with."

His companions nod was barely noticeable, a brief tilt, nothing more as his fingers flexed around the flight stick. "I do not know if Relena knows her brother has been living in Sanc. I can not see her sanctioning such a unit either. I was under the impression Marquise was on Mars."

"I thought everyone knew he had returned." Wu Fei scowled at his reflection in the windshield. "Noin returned with him, and we all know about the break up. It was messy."

"When I did not see him around the office, and Relena did not mention him, I assumed he had returned to Mars."

"We assume too much it seems. I assumed he had wisely been assigned to an out of the way Preventer office."

"I suppose, in a way, he was." Heero returned.

Chang's scowl deepened. "Yes, I suppose he was."

For a few minutes they sat in silence, listening to the rotors and the engine struggle against the wind. The higher into the mountains they flew the worse the wind became, yet it was much less intense than it had been as little as two hours before. At least now it was possible to fly.

"He is not what I would have thought someone would make use of for a black operations section."

"How so?" Heero queried.

"He is noticeable. Too noticeable. How do you go unnoticed if you look as he does? He is too remarkable. The hair must be as long as Maxwell's; his face is unmistakable, there is nothing standard or unremarkable about him. The sheer size of him is a detriment to moving unobtrusively. It is easier to hide if one is short and slender and dark."

"True." Heero inclined his head. "It would appear he is capable, despite his general looks."

"Yes." Chang checked their coordinates. "I suppose he is."

The GPS unit chimed; the sound turning to an annoying buzz and Heero changed course, giving his attention to the approach vector. He needed to alter course and skirt the flank of the mountain to land, a course which would take them away from Duo's presumed location.

"We need to learn more of this Black Operations Unit."

"We will." Yuy swore softly as the chopper dipped violently before steadying. "I will be glad to set this bird down."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	23. Chapter 23

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Murder Minor to Hair Word count: 2,779

Series: Friends 23/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts. Unbetaed and Aussie spelling.

Many thanks to Katie for volunteering to beta Friends. It was much appreciated.

Chapter 23

"So. You've had the chance to do some thinking. Any ideas who might want you dead and why?"

"I think there are too many possibilities to simply pick a name out of a hat." The deep voice seemed to vibrate in the air, husky, low toned, thoughtful.

Duo snorted, flicking his braid over his shoulder. "If there are that many potential murderers lurking in your past, it might be the best way to start the hunt. You have to start somewhere."

Marquise grinned, the blonde head dipping slightly and sending a cascade of silver, tinted amber by the firelight, to pool at his side. "Off hand I can think of one or two people who might not be pleased I still breathe."

Duo smirked, stretching his legs out in front of him, soaking in the warmth of the fire. "Okay, there are a few people with cause to be unhappy with you. There has to be a place to start, so what about starting at the beginning; with what you were doing while you were training at Lake Victoria? You mentioned you were an undercover operative. What was that all about? How did you get involved in an intelligence operation at your age?"

"Undercover work is not something that was common for a cadet. Had I known what would happen I probably would have refused. I was barely a cadet when I was approached, a one off operation, but if I cooperated it would smooth my way at the Academy and it would keep the Alliance from sniffing around me."

Duo guessed Marquise would have welcomed anonymity. The Alliance would have been after him if he was suspected of being the Prince. So how had he managed to hide in plain sight of the Alliance?

"What happened? What was it about?"

The blonde head tilted to one side as Zechs considered Duo. The operation was still covered by the Official Secret Act, all material pertaining to it sealed for another forty years. Of course he did not particularly give a fig after all this time, and many of the people involved were rotting in their graves. There were still some individuals who lived, who had cause to avoid the questions likely to be asked when public disclosure could be made.

It was all a part of the horrors which haunted his dreams. In his life he had killed, lied, schemed and cheated to remain alive, even when he no longer cared if he lived or died. The survival instinct of man was a wonderful, if bothersome thing. Some days it seemed for most of his life he had been dead, and he saw no improvement in the foreseeable future.

There would come a day when it would be too much and he would get up and walk. They would panic of course, and come after him, intent on keeping secret the Operations he performed for them. He would need to ensure he was secure for that day, and perhaps it would not hurt if one more person learned the truth. Just one person who was not involved, but who would, given his past; understand why he had chosen as he had, both then, so long ago, and more recently.

"Milliardo Peacecraft was dead, slain in the massacre of the Sanc Kingdom. It was history, taught in the schools by the Alliance; explained away as a nest of vipers preaching rebellion against the Alliance. The entire family was extinguished, to ensure there could be no rallying point for rebels and terrorists to focus on."

"Not pretty." Duo murmured. "I know what a massacre looks like, even if it was on a smaller scale."

"Yes, you would know." He drew a deeper breath, staring into the fire before he pulled his thoughts into line. "A rebel group came to the attention of the Alliance Intelligence Service. This rebel faction was growing in number and making waves that were beginning to be noticed by those in a position to make bigger waves. This group claimed to include in their ranks the Crown Prince of Sanc."

"I bet that went down well with those who had moved against Sanc."

"The order was given for the rebels to be hunted, and for this so called "˜Crown Prince' in their ranks to be taken into custody. His identity was to be disproven and the Alliance media machine swung into operation, disclaiming the likelihood of any rebel actually being the Prince. As with most lies the rumours grew, becoming more prevalent and gathering more eager individuals into the rebel band. The Alliance Intelligence Service was not having a great deal of success infiltrating the rebel cell, and the Alliance Generals were becoming a little tetchy by the delay."

Duo shifted his feet closer to the fire, aware of the march of time. They would need to settle down for the night soon enough, but at the moment the fire was burning too high for them to consider retiring for the night. Given they would be leaving the next day, he thought they might enjoy a second meal before settling down.

Watching the man reclining in the tent and staring into the dancing flames, Duo wondered what Marquise had had to endure. There was sure to be a colourful story pre-dating the Lake Victoria Academy, and he wondered if he might weasel some information out of the man at some later time. He was sure Milliardo saw another time and place reflected in the flames; something quite different to this draughty pantry cave in the Sanc highlands.

"Given the trouble the AIS was having infiltrating the cell, Treize, and those who backed him, saw a golden opportunity to advance their plans. There were few persons who knew who I was, and they were a part of the select group who founded the Specials. They recognized a chance, presented by the inability of the Alliance to infiltrate and take out the Rebels, to advance their cause. If the newly formed Specials could infiltrate the rebels and bring them down, then they could gain brownie points with the Alliance, and further cement the formation of the Specials division."

Duo stirred, frowning. "Wow, time out. I've never really understood that. You and Une both keep referring to Oz as the Specials, and saying the Corps have been around for less than twenty years. Oz was around a lot longer than you are implying."

"I am not talking about Oz, Duo, but the Specials. There was a difference between the two. The group headed by Treize's Uncle had been working on ways to bring about fortuitous circumstances, to gain the newly certified Oz Specials the distinction of not being just another offshoot of the Alliance. They needed the Specials to be recognizably separate from the original Oz Corps founded by the Alliance."

"I personally can't see any distinction between the two. If you did not want to be counted as a part of one group, why the heck would you lump yourself in with them? I was warned as a Gundam Pilot, and I know the others were warned as well, to be careful of Oz and to take them down."

"Oz or OZ, the Order of the Zodiac?"

Duo straightened slowly, frowning. "You are suggesting there was a difference between the Specials and Oz?"

"There was a vast difference between the two Corps. The original concept was for the Specials to be autonomous from all pre-existing units within the Alliance. You have heard the saying of the "'Best laid plans of mice and men?'"

"Yeah. I've heard it."

"There were problems achieving this status. Certain diehards in the Alliance were suspect about the formation of the Corps, despite the best efforts of those backing the Specials; the diehards prevailed, though they were not totally successful. When they attempted to block the formation of the Unit they were only partially successful. Failing to stop its formation they successfully lobbied for the Specials to become a part of the Oz Special Operations Unit. Amid certain circles this Corps was more commonly known as the Dirty Tricks squad. Treize and his Uncle knew immediately that under this ruling the reputation of the Oz Corps would automatically tarnish the Specials, and the new corps would be labouring under its stigma. The Specials needed to distinguish themselves as quickly, and decisively, as possible, separating their reputation from Oz."

"I only ever knew them as Oz, so they can't have been too successful."

"They were more successful than you think. Amid military circles they needed to achieve their own identity. That opportunity presented itself when the AIS had problems infiltrating, and disbanding, the rebel faction claiming to have the Prince of Sanc amid their number."

"I see. If they could take down the rebels they could distinguish themselves, if only amidst their own peers." Duo murmured. "So how did you factor into this?"

"A proposal was presented to the Alliance Council, that the Specials infiltrate the rebel faction, and once infiltrated they would cause unrest from the inside and bring them down. Very little fanfare; discretion being the operative word. At the time the Alliance was involved in delicate negotiations with certain business conglomerates, and they could not afford a massive operation in which civilians would be targeted."

Zechs closed his eyes for a moment, losing himself in his memories and seeming to forget he was not alone. It was not so many years in the past, but so much had happened that it seemed to belong to another lifetime.

Duo watched him for a time, giving him the opportunity to sift through his memories, but when Zechs seemed to be sinking deeper into memory he decided if he wanted to learn more he would need to jog the Prince back from the past.

"If the Alliance spies could not infiltrate the group, how did the Specials think they could manage it?"

Blue eyes flicked in the firelight, blinking as though he had awoken from a deep sleep. After a moment Zechs eased himself up a little higher, resting his hip by transferring his weight a little.

"That was the consensus amid the Alliance Generals. How could the Specials succeed, when the much vaunted Intelligence Service failed? It was at that meeting the faction, who wanted the Specials discredited and disbanded, made a fatal error of judgment. Knowing failure would mean the disgraced Corps would be disbanded, they pushed for the Specials proposal to be accepted. They were eager to be rid of what they suspected would become a thorn in the side of the Alliance over time. General Catalonia was given permission for the Specials to run an operation to remove the rebels."

"So how did he… General Catalonia? Any relation to Dorothy?" Duo queried.

"Now Duo, you should know all of the Old European nobility are related, in one fashion or another. He was her father, and he was killed fighting a rebel uprising a few years later. Treize took command of the Specials on his death."

"Ah. Right. So how did he plan to infiltrate the rebels?"

Zechs shifted his weight a little, uncomfortable no matter where he settled, but such discomfort was to be ignored. What concerned him was why he was talking to this man. Normally he would not have spoken of the operation at all, sitting in frosty silence until the hint was taken to change the subject. What was it about Maxwell that relaxed him and got him talking?

//I don't know why I am telling him this. I suppose if they try again to take me down, and succeed, then someone might be curious enough to investigate; but it may have nothing to do with that particular operation. Still, it is better than silence and lapsing into brooding.//

He saw enough of his dark persona, and was not keen on welcoming him back because the silence permitted brooding. The ghost of Treize would no doubt shake his head and tell him to get a life. Yet again.

Considering those past days might bring out a clue, though he doubted he would recognize a clue if it fell over him, and for good measure turned around and bit him. If no recognizable clue presented itself, he could hope their talk brought Duo to the understanding that sometimes he was not a nice man.

"I was approached by General Catalonia and Treize. The rebels claimed to have the Prince of Sanc, a figurehead and rallying point for them. What do you suppose would happen if word should circulate the Prince of Sanc knew nothing of them? What if it became known he was not amused at having his name brought into their little rebellion? What if there was an opposing group of activists who were backed by the real Prince? Indeed, what if he had helped form their group?"

Duo nodded slowly. "I see. They wanted you to step forward as the Prince."

"Not quite. General Catalonia appeared before a select sitting of Alliance Generals, informing them there was a cousin of the Kushrenada family who might, with the correct grooming, be made to impersonate the Prince of Sanc." He sighed softly. "Treize was delighted with the idea. After all, how better to hide the supposedly dead Prince than in plain sight of the very army hunting him?"

"That was damned dangerous." Duo was unaware he had gathered his braid and was pulling at the tuft on the end, eyes bright as he watched the older man. "They didn't think anyone would recognize you as actually being the Prince?"

"Care was taken in the setting of the stage. I was suitably made up to the point there was a passing resemblance to the last photographs taken of the six year old Prince. These photographs were displayed to the Generals, along with another set of photographs. Pictures which demonstrated what the Kushrenada cousin looked like suitably 'cleaned up' to impersonate the Prince. I was petrified when I was paraded before them, but I comported myself well enough in my role to pass muster. With the blessing of the Alliance the Specials funding for the operation was approved, and the go ahead given. And suddenly I was impersonating myself, for the express purpose of bring down the Rebels."

"Damn dangerous, if you ask me."

"For everyone involved, not just for me. It was a complex operation, and at the end it almost failed, but almost is not a failure." Zechs sighed and rested his head back, staring up at the roof of the tent. "Zechs Marquise and his resemblance to Milliardo Peacecraft went unremarked upon, until a single incident necessitated the donning of the mask. Special dispensation was given to allow for the disguise to be maintained; keeping my hair long while training. I was required to keep up with my studies, despite playing the Prince for upwards of a month at a time. The personas of Zechs and Milliardo had to be recognizably different. Zechs became an intense book worm with a natural talent for Mobile Suits. It was not easy, but it was exciting. I was afraid, but I wanted to do something to pay back those who had sheltered me."

"You were just a kid. Did you really know what you were doing?"

Zechs smiled; a small curve of full lips and brilliant blue eyes centred on Duo. "Did you, I might ask, at approximately the same age, know what you were getting into?"

Duo sighed. "Touché."

"Many people had placed their lives on the line to bring me out of Sanc, and to keep me out of the hands of the Alliance. I wanted to do something to help pay back those who destroyed everything, and everyone, I had loved. It helped Treize assured me repeatedly I would not need to kill, that there was no need for me to take a life."

There was a shadow in those eyes which suggested to Duo something had gone wrong, and Milliardo Peacecraft might have killed during that assignment. There was something in his expression, which suggested all had not gone well. If he dared he would ask this man, who was, once again, neither recognizably Zechs Marquise nor Milliardo Peacecraft, when he had first killed.

It was not a question he would appreciate anyone asking him, and Duo refrained from voicing the query, but he had to wonder if the man had first killed in the guise of the spy Milliardo Peacecraft or as Zechs Marquise, mobile suit pilot.

It was no wonder he was screwed up mentally.

//Hell, I'm just as screwed up.//

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	24. Chapter 24

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Shadow, Deadlines. Minor to Rescue, Longest Day. Word count: 1,783

Series: Friends 24/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive:Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at at Gundam Wing Diaries http://www.gundam-wing-diaries. I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts. Unbetaed and Aussie spelling.

Characters Challenge Duo, Zechs and Quatre

Many thanks to Katie for volunteering to beta Friends. It was much appreciated.

Chapter 24

"How long did it take for you to infiltrate the rebel cell?"

"Nineteen months, give or take a day or three. The Alliance Generals were not happy with the time, but when asked if they wanted the leaders, or just the cell taken out to reform again in six months, the Specials were given the time to do the job properly."

"So for more than a year and a half you alternated between being Zechs and Milliardo." Duo mused. "It must have been difficult some days, to tell who you were supposed to be."

Difficult, Zechs mused, was not quite the word he would use. At first he had thought it an impossible task, to keep Zechs and Milliardo separate, but it was a task he was required to do, and he had owed so many people his best effort.

"The mask helped remind me. The persona of Milliardo became the deception, not the boy who wore the mask and walked in the open as though there was nothing different about him. I don't really understand how it happened, but I felt it was a lie when I played at being the Prince. Zechs was real, Milliardo was not."

Duo watched him, the man staring into the fire, blue eyes with fire reflected in their depths. Not merely the firelight, but a reflection of the fire in the man's soul.

"Milliardo was dead. It was Zechs who struggled with make-up classes, who stayed up half the night to catch up on work his contemporaries had covered days, or weeks, beforehand. It was Zechs who seemed real, who made friends despite having to be careful not to give away his true identity. Milliardo had to remain aloof, separated from everyone except those who knew the truth. He was not real, merely necessary. I suppose it is no wonder I am warped; some days I struggle to determine who I really am."

"Shit, man, you are not the only one who wonders that." Duo began poking around in the rations. "I thought we might have a bit extra nosh, seeing as we will be out of here tomorrow."

"More would be good." He watched, not particularly mindful to stir himself to do more than look into the flames and see the past. "I know I am not the only one with problems, Duo. Too many of us are scarred by the war."

"So who do you prefer to be?"

"I preferred being Zechs. He could afford to be human. Who I am now is closer to Milliardo, I think."

Duo tilted his head slightly, wondering if he dared as THE question. Did he dare to bring up the subject of the Libra? He was not keen on the idea of arousing the dark Milliardo he had glimpsed and managed to avoid. He much preferred the man seated across from him, the one who was neither Zechs nor Milliardo, but some complex mix of both. Dare he ask the question everyone at some time in the past few years had asked, generally in whispers?

"What the hell were you doing on Libra?"

As soon as the words were out he wished he could take them back. He had not actually meant to ask, merely think about asking, but his damnable mouth always ran away with itself. He should walk around with a permanent gag; he would find himself in less trouble. He always he put his foot in his mouth after the fact, but the words were out and he could not take them back. All he could do was offer a quick apology.

"Sorry. Scratch that, none of my business, and I did not mean to ask. I live in a glass house and I am not going to be throwing stones at anyone else."

For a long moment silence reigned in the pantry and Duo devoted his attention to the meal packs. While his fingers handled the plastic bags his other senses were focused on Zechs, waiting to determine if he needed to act quickly to preserve his life. Marquise might be injured, but Duo was not going to make the mistake of considering him helpless. It was amazing what the human body could do if it felt threatened enough.

Marquise had survived too long for Duo to doubt the strength of his survival instinct.

It was there, that shadow hovering, growing stronger. The dark persona he had managed to talk around to the friendlier Zechs. Was it Milliardo Peacecraft he sensed? Was this shadowy darkness the Pacifist Prince, scion of generations of Pacifists, pushed beyond the limits of endurance to survive?

Whatever was the source persona it was there, hovering, threatening to take possession and return Duo to the edge of survival himself. They were a fine pair, Duo reflected. Dangerous, both capable of so much and deep inside, all they wanted was peace. Peace and the chance to come to terms with what they had done, and what had been done to them.

"Sorry man."

The waiting was becoming hard. On edge, waiting for his companion to say something, waiting to learn if it was all going to come apart. If he must hurt the man he had come to rescue. In Zechs's weakened condition Duo was almost certain he could take the man down.

Almost.

He was not sure why he kept thinking he might be in trouble if he faced this dark persona of Zechs's.

He could feel the man trying to contain his reaction, trying to gain control. There was no temper, no anger, just that darkness. The same sense that had brought him out to this forsaken cabin in the mountains was now screaming he was in trouble if the man lost control. The surging and ebbing tide of warning as Marquise fought for control was making Duo nauseous. To move though, he was sure, would be a mistake; would be to tip the scales balance against him.

He had to be the mouse, hidden, quiet, still, while the cat prowled past. He must not attract the attention of this dangerous, silent shadow.

It was stupid, to be afraid of a man who could not even stand up.

It was like stretching a rubber band, waiting for it to break. Tighter and tighter, threatening to snap but stretching that little bit extra. Something had to give and he was afraid it would be him, saying something stupid yet again.

Better by far to say something constructive, if he had to open his mouth at all, which he did. He just knew he was going to do something stupid in the face of the darkness. He had to be normal, something other than a threat, and before the silence totally got to him, he would say something passive. Nonthreatening. Disarming.

"Everyone keeps telling me to shut up, that I drivel on too much. Given how many people tell me that, I guess it must be true, my mouth never knows when to stay shut. I'm doing it again." He sighed, feeling the band stretch closer to breaking. "Your business, not mine. Now, what do you want for supper? Beef mush with mashed vegetables, or the ever popular star of the menu, the cure all of all cure alls? Yes folks, that's right. Chicken soup is back on the menu."

Maybe his mouth could do him a favour and swallow him?

""""""""""""""""""""""

Duo was in trouble.

Quatre could not help the betraying tremble in his fingers. He clenched his hands into fists, hiding them beneath the ultra glossy surface of the table. His Board of Directors was stirring, closing folders, chatting amongst themselves and nodding amiably at him.

It was just another night to them. The end of another long and difficult day, and they had the chance to go home at last. No, he did not what them to notice his sudden alarm.

He had been dealing with deadlines and one crisis after another since arriving at the meeting, and all he wanted to do was go home. For him there was no comfortable presence waiting for him there. Trowa was up the mountain, the same mountain where Duo was now generating fear. The same mountain from which he sensed a brooding and dangerous shadow.

Marquise.

He did not understand why he could feel Marquise as he did, or why he should feel such a shadowed, deadly darkness and know it was Marquise. He had never met the man beyond a few brief minutes in the aftermath of the Barton incident. He would have been lucky to have exchanged a hundred words with the man, who once had been the enemy and had become an ally.

He had not wondered what Zechs was doing since he and Lucrezia Noin had returned from Mars. Perhaps he should have felt some concern for more than Duo's sanity.

What was happening up there?

"Can I offer you a ride home, Quatre?"

He dragged his attention away from the awareness to smile and shake his head in a friendly fashion, hiding his growing fear. There was something dark and threatening and Trowa was going into it. He should be there, but he was here, miles away, unable to do anything except monitor the emotions of other men.

"No thank you, I have one or two more things to do before I will be ready to return home. I am afraid I left a little paperwork which must be finished tonight."

"You are working yourself too hard. You will miss out on the fun of your youth, closeting yourself with a bunch of old men who have nothing better to do that talk business." The elderly gentleman smiled. "You should give yourself a vacation, and the chance to act your age."

"It has been a long day, one of the longest I can recall in a while. If I can finish the paperwork tonight I might come in a little later tomorrow."

The old man sighed. "The boundless energy of youth. We need to learn to pace ourselves, Young Quatre, else we will not grow old enough to realize the benefits of our labours. Take an old man's advice and slot yourself in for a vacation and take it. We are only young once."

"I will."

He wanted desperately to be alone, and they were taking forever to leave the boardroom. He wanted to plaster his nose to the wide windows and stare into the darkness, up at the mountain he could not see in hopes of. What was it he hoped to do?

//I am helpless. I can't do anything. What is happening up there?//

He was simply too far away.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	25. Chapter 25

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadow, Anger Minor to Rescue, Retribution Word count: 1,275

Series: Friends 25/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Challenge Characters: Quatre, Duo and Zechs

Chapter 25

He was too far away.

Staring into the darkness above the lights of the city, blue eyes intense, unblinking and unseeing. The menace filled him, the shadowy danger not exactly unfamiliar to him. He had felt its like before, years ago and more recently. He could not place a name to it though he knew it.

He had felt it the first time during the battle over the Earth, fighting the White Fang and particularly at the battle over Libra. It had been there, in the darkness. A shadowy presence emanating menace and…

Despair?

Was it despair he caught, buried deep within the shadow?

Was he reading too much into this distant awareness? He thought it was despair, intermingled with something else… something far more dangerous. Was Marquise, or Peacecraft or whoever this shadowy reflection of him was, despairing of hope?

There was a pulse beat intermingled in the darkness, a rising beat his own heart lurching in his chest sought to match. He had felt this before, but distraction had thrust it from his attention, demanding he concentrate on affairs of business.

The more it grew in his awareness the more it reminded him of another time, another awareness. Another time of despair and grief and anger. Hatred and sorrow, confusion and determination. Emotions he had been submerged in all too often but this time, this time he knew it was more than a pale echo of daily lives interacting with his own.

He had been inundated with these negative emotions when at his most vulnerable point. Grief and insanity had been the centre of his existence; his own grief, his anger at the fickleness of human nature. Betrayal, abandonment; a growing desire for retribution. A need for revenge and a despairing wail of solitary misunderstanding.

No one reacted well to war.

He had been vulnerable to the emotions of others and there had been no one he could turn to. He had been force fed the anger and upset and confusion of the Colonists and Zero had taken those emotions and mingled them with his grief and rage.

His father's actions at the betrayal of the colonists; at their fickleness in turning to Oz and accusing him of grasping for power. They had turned on his father, accused him of greed and corruption and terrible things, driving the pacifist to the ultimate stupidity of exploding the resource satellite. The man he remembered had been a hardnosed business man with a heart bigger than the colony itself. He had worked tirelessly to better the living conditions for the people and they had turned on him.

Grief and despair had driven him insane. It had not been initially Zero, but that system had fed on his roiling emotions and created the darkness he found so familiar now.

//This is not good.//

With the recognition Quatre felt understanding dawn. He struggled to divorce himself from the shadows, to strive for awareness and place welcome distance between himself and Marquise.

//No. I think it is Milliardo Peacecraft.//

It was the Peacecraft who had commanded White Fang. It was the Peacecraft who had risen from the ashes of the twice fallen Sanc to pilot Epyon and have his soul ripped out and birthed anew. It was Milliardo Peacecraft who took the leap of faith and become the most hated and feared man in the Earth Sphere.

//It was… horrible.// He stared into the darkness, fists clenched at his sides. //It is because of what he did we now enjoy peace but… horrible. To live the nightmare day after day…//

He dared not say it aloud, not even to himself. Refusing to speak of it did not smother the truth he recognized. He knew what had been done all those years ago. He knew and he both admired and pitied the man for having the hard cold nerve to carry the plan through to completion.

Quatre knew what it was to have Zero rip your soul out and bare to you the darkness of despair.

Lifting a hand to cover his eyes, Quatre plunged his world into darkness, depriving himself of light. Could he live in this darkness without going insane? Could he cut himself off from the world so completely, make himself anathema and know there was no turning back? Could he do that and live with the consequences?

//No.//

The answer brought with it a spear of pain and certain understanding.

//He did not expect to survive.//

He had to remember the background; the breeding and training that went into shaping the man once known as Zechs Marquise and who was born Milliardo Peacecraft. Quatre did not know a great deal about his childhood, only that he was the heir to Sanc's throne and he had been taken in by the Khushrenada's after the massacre.

His military records spoke of dedication and brilliance and suggested a great deal about the young man. There were oddities about his record, but that was for later, when he had the time to investigate.

The Khushrenada's had been traditionalists, as much if not more so than Quatre's family and Marquise would have been reared as befitted his station as a Prince, though a Prince in hiding. He would have been taught to revere and respect honour and traditional values and, above all, he would have been taught his duty.

Duty to his people would have been the backbone of his education.

There was more though. Quatre was sure he would need to check the military records before he could be sure. It would not take a great deal of time to do so with the resources at his disposal. He needed to be certain, but he was sure he had felt this same shadowed awareness before.

Recently. Then he had sensed a companion darkness, not merely despair but also the determination for retribution.

It was there, brooding, hovering, and he shuddered. It made no threatening moves, not as yet, but it was there, waiting. Leashed, he suspected, but by what? What stayed it? What held it? What saved Duo from it for a second time in a matter of hours?

He was safe, Quatre realized, surprised by his certainty. Though he could feel the fear in Duo he could also feel the sudden certainty of safety. It was as though a switch had been flicked and the threat subsided. There was still the brooding presence but the immediate threat was banked, watchful and waiting.

That control surprised him and firmed a vague notion into something a little more substantial. He was afraid to think it, but it would be far worse to ignore the possibility.

"You can control it to a degree?" He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, his breath misting on the surface. "You at least have enough control to ensure Duo is safe from you."

Turning from the window Quatre gathered his files and marched determinedly out of the boardroom. Enough was enough and he needed to look into the matter of Zechs Marquise, or Milliardo Peacecraft, whichever name the man chose to use. He had had enough, and he wanted answers.

Pulling the phone from his pocket he hit speed dial and waited.

"Yes?"

There was never any nonsense with this woman and he needed that now. She would not like his interference, but it was his lover up on the mountain. He was as determined as she and he would have answers and she would be only one of those he questioned this night. Just one of perhaps four individuals from whom he must gain some answers.

"Une. We need to talk. Tonight."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	26. Chapter 26

Hi

Sorry for the delay in posting this one up. We had some technical difficulties, as in Vista's Office ate it and would not regurgitate it into something legible to my older system. [Is that not disgusting? Sorry, but that was how it seemed fighting the formatting.

Many thanks to Katie for her time and patience and her work as beta.

Hope you enjoy.

Karina

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Bad Night, Shadows, Rescue

Minor to Veteran, Wind, Murder Word count: 2,256

Series: Friends 26/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge Wu Fei, Trowa and Zechs

Chapter 26

"A bad night to be out and about." Wu Fei glared at the snow driving against the windscreen of the helicopter.

"I have endured worse; the camps were bitterly cold, cold enough not to be easily forgotten." Trowa peered through the windscreen and shook his head. "Though I was not fool enough to take a walk in the middle of a blizzard without the benefit of a mobile suit."

Memories of his days with the mercenary band teased at him and he thrust them aside. He was already a veteran fighter when he had joined the Barton backed Operation Meteor and acquired his current name. It was not so many years ago and he had no desire to return to those restless days.

Chang grunted softly. "We need to move. Delaying the inevitable will serve little purpose."

"I expect conditions will be appreciably better within the trees. The wind at least should be more manageable."ﾝ

Chang turned to stare out of the windshield again, seeking some hint of the light Heero had taken with him to check out the lie of the land. He was of the opinion he would prefer to move on and effect this rescue. If they were to camp for the remainder of the night they might as well have remained in New Port City and departed at dawn.

"We have come this far and I am not enamoured of the idea of spending the night in a draughty tent and then trudging through the forest in the morning. Better to get this rescue under way."

"Agreed." Trowa murmured.

He could be curled up with Quatre in their large bed, finding entertaining amusements instead of sitting here, freezing his backside off waiting for Yuy. It was all well and good to scout the area, but he was not of a mind to delay longer than necessary.

He had packed all their gear, checking it over carefully, ensuring everything was ready for use. Before he had finished Yuy had passed him, pulled the hood of his arctic parker over his head and slipped out of the helicopter. The freezing blast of air admitted had warned of the dangers they must face if they chose to continue this night.

"I see his light." Chang murmured.

"Best get ready to lock the bird down then." Trowa murmured.

He was fairly confident of what Heero would have to say. He, no more than they, wished to freeze his arse in a tent all night.

"I'll get the sled ready for the gear."

He made his way to the backpack he would wear, set it to one side and took the fold up sled from its place in a wall rack. Setting it beside the small pile of packs he had prepared for their departure he took three meal packs and vigorously shook one, tossing it to Chang as he joined him.

"We may as well get something hot into us before we go out."

A wordless grunt answered him and at the prearranged knock on the hatch he opened the door, extending a hand to haul Heero into the chopper, slam the door and wordlessly handed over a food pack.

"It is a lot easier going in the trees, but we will need to keep a close eye on the GPS units." Heero doffed his gloves, shook the meal pack, ripped the top off and dug in, ignoring the snow melting from his face and gear. "If the terrain remains the same right through to the source of the transponder signal, then we will have at least a two hour slog, maybe three."

Time estimates would change, depending on the terrain and density of the snow drifts. Trowa was no stranger to slogging through snow; he had seen enough of it during his mercenary days. He was doubtful any of the other former Gundam Pilots shared his knowledge, but he did not doubt they would take what came with stoic silence.

"Wonderful." Chang snorted. "I will notify Preventer Earth we are leaving the helicopter and proceeding to target and that we may be out of contact until sunrise."

Une would be waiting for the call. It disturbed Trowa, this mission. There was too much unsaid, too many questions and a friend was out in the blizzard. The whole matter of Marquise was one huge question mark and he had the disagreeable feeling answers would not be forthcoming. They would be expected to return Marquise to a designated location and leave, forgetting the incident ever took place.

There would be no questions or answers unless they went against orders and searched out the answers themselves.

"It will likely be a few hours after sunrise." Heero murmured around a mouthful of what imitated roast beef and vegetables. "We need to locate the target and transport him to the chopper. That alone will take some time, depending on his condition."

"Possibly mid afternoon." Chang estimated, casting an eye about him as the wind buffeted the helicopter.

"It concerns me we have not heard from Duo." Trowa slipped his empty food pack into a garbage locker. "There has been no radio contact and I would have expected him to attempt communications."

"In these conditions I am not surprised he has been unable to communicate with anyone." Wu Fei headed for the flight deck. "I am concerned I may not be able to get through now we have landed. After I call headquarters I will attempt to raise the other helicopter. Being so close we may have more success."

"Only if he has remained with the craft." Trowa murmured.

00000000000000000000000000000

Maxwell was very good at not being in the room though he sat in plain sight.

Hiding in plain view was an acquired skill, and for someone of smaller stature and darker colouring it was easier than for someone of his height and colouring. Maxwell's braid, eye catching as it was, could be hidden, disguised, making it a negligible factor in any attempt to hide.

He was too noticeable and he knew it, but it had not stopped him from acquiring the skills to pass unnoticed through crowds.

Zechs could feel the gradual easing of tension in the younger man; the awareness of danger passing, and he had to admire the nerves of steel Duo had displayed. When the Shadow rose it was not easy to contain and twice now he had needed to struggle against reacting to what it construed to be threats.

Some days he even frightened himself when the darkness threatened to emerge. It happened when there was danger or a threat and at the moment he was on edge and on fire with determination to locate the source of his would be murderer. It stood to reason his tension would arouse his darker side.

Assassin. Executioner. Murderer. Lackey. All words for the same body, the one who wanted him dead. Or rather, one of what had to be an extensive number of people who wanted him dead. The list was long and covered just about every high powered position the ESUN had to offer, from businessmen to politicians and military personnel and included to his underground contacts in the seedier places of the ESUN.

He was not, after all, Mr. Popular.

Epyon had aroused the Shadow persona within him to new heights, awakening in him new skills and cold hard nerves. Pilots and combat specialists had to have nerves of steel, but Epyon had taken his level of professionalism to new heights. It had enabled him to continue to function in a world that despised and hated him.

It would have been so much easier, for everyone, if he had died.

Not that he had ever taken the easy way out.

The greatest lesson he had ever learned was that vengeance had its price.

He had been down the road of vengeance before, hunting the man who had brought down the Sanc Kingdom. He had killed that man. He had not been smiling and rabid with hate and insanity as he had done the deed, but he had felt a deep satisfaction the murderer of his parents and destroyer of their kingdom had been judged.

The military courts of the day would not have tried him; did not even acknowledge the slaughter that had taken place in Sanc. Vengeance had had to be taken by one of the few to have survived, one of the few not immersed in the tenets of pacifism. The act itself had left him cold and empty, adrift, with no clear destination now the long sought vengeance had been accomplished.

He would need to be careful not to go down that same path during the hunt for his would be killer and those who backed him.

Epyon had taken his emotions for the slaughter and his father's ideals and given him a solution to ensure such butchery would not happen again.

Nothing worth having ever came without a price, he had learned that lesson a long time ago. He had freely chosen to pay the price such an act would require. Even now, so many years after the event he would not shirk the payment. He had lived, though he had expected to die, he had lived. Death would have been easier, but the dice had been cast and he would endure being ostracized and reviled by the world until release finally was granted.

Such was life.

To see the peace now in effect was worth the price.

There were those who sought to disrupt the peace and renew conflict and he took note of them, marking them for future attention. Certain such individuals had earned a visit from him in the small hours of the night and his visits had thus far proven sufficient to cause them to re-evaluate their views.

Seeing the darkness within him standing at the foot of their bed must be an unnerving sight to wake up to. Few found the courage to face him; fewer still found the courage to argue against the Shadow.

Relena had her peace and it was as well she had no idea he continued to fight to maintain it.

"I guess we should get some rest soon."

Duo was wary of him. Maxwell was no fool and seemed well aware of his Shadow. Aware and wary but unafraid. What he felt from the braided younger man was not fear, more caution and the will to avoid trouble. Even in his current condition if the Shadow emerged completely Duo would find himself in trouble and he seemed to know it.

They had shared a sleeping bag and midway through the night he had woken to find himself pleasantly warm with their combined body heat. It would be warmer still this night, his body heat having risen sufficiently to serve them both in the confines of the bag. If, that was, Duo did not prefer the safety of a single bag.

"It is growing late." He would not suggest they share, but leave the choice up to Maxwell.

He would not think less of him for opting for a single sleeping bag after glimpsing the Shadow.

He had no idea what the time was, but in this cabin in the woods there was little to amuse each other with except tales of the wars they were both veterans of, or of the people they each had known who had met similar ends. Depressing, to say the least. Sleeping was as good as staring into the flames in silence.

"I really should check your bandages. Put some more salve on those wounds."

He felt his gut clench. Did he dare to permit Duo to get that close him? Did he dare to chance the resurgence of the Shadow Milliardo? To protest in any way, to chance contention at this time, might rouse the dark side better left undisturbed. It would rouse in subconscious defence of yet another secret he must guard.

He was uncertain Duo could face a third meeting with his shadowed side without arousing the younger man's own dark persona.

"It is not bothering me." Quietly and carefully, tone neutral and hope he would not insist.

Perhaps Duo did not wish to get that close to him, potentially a wise move given his slip toward his shadowy side. It would be less risk to Duo if they called it a night now and slipped into separate bags and simply went to sleep.

The food packs were bundled up and stored away, two left out for breakfast before tackling the task of digging out the helicopter. The empty packs were neatly stashed for disposal in a pack with the other refuse; Duo would be a neat camper, leaving little sign of his presence when he moved on.

Blue eyes tinged with violet were watching him, assessing him. Grading how dangerous he might be.

"Yeah, but I left it this morning and I should have checked. Just to be safe, you know?"

No fear. Determination to do the right thing, to show the Shadow there was no fear as well as no threat from him. He was street wise, this young man, determined and very much aware of the world around him.

Duo would not fail to notice. Surely he could not fail to notice, but perhaps he would say nothing. Perhaps he would know enough to leave the subject unvoiced, to look, blink perhaps and move on.

With a soft sigh Zechs extended his bandaged arm, offering the slashed wrist to Duo's ministrations.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	27. Chapter 27

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Veteran, Resolution, Anger Minor to Bad Night Word count: 2,655

Series: Friends 27/??

Author: Karina

Pairings:

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge

Chapter 27

For the count of five breaths there was silence and Quatre continued to stride toward his office. Une would be considering the best options for putting him off and discarding that, determining where and when they should meet. She would not be considering the why of the meeting that would come later.

"When are you free this evening?"

He recognized the neutral tone as one of caution. She was wary, uncertain of the topic to be aired, but knowing it would be of importance. He only ever contacted her at work over matters concerning the safety of the Peace. That she was not putting off his visit assured him she had no idea what he wished to speak to her about.

He had little doubt she would put off their meeting if she suspected why he wanted the interview.

"Any time this evening would be acceptable. I am finishing up at the office and will be leaving shortly."

Again a silence during which he could almost hear the wheels of her mind turning over and he offered nothing in the way of explanation.

"I have a little more to do before… Three hours? My office."

His secretary was waiting for him, folders stacked neatly on her desk. The errant thought why there was so much paper work involved in this age of computers and electronic gadgetry teased at him and he dismissed it as irrelevant to the moment.

Une had given him a time schedule and it could not have worked out better had he planned it. He could complete a few phone calls while he waited.

"Acceptable."

He snapped the phone closed, ending the call and nodded to his secretary.

"Thank you, Sandra. We are done for the day."

Her bright eyes swept over the files he had asked for to be waiting for him, but she merely nodded. "Yes, Mr. Winner."

"I will be taking a week off, starting now. Anything that can not wait on my return and can be dealt with by others; be so kind as to forward it to the appropriate Manager. Unless the sky falls in, I want the week undisturbed."

He had shocked her. When he had time to think about it he would probably shock himself. It was not his practise to engage in spur of the moment fancies. Business always came first, but not this time. This time he must trust those who worked for him and take the time to settle matters best kept far removed from the mundane world.

He was aware of her watching him as he swept into his office. He did not hear her begin to move until he engaged in placing the files he carried in their appropriate places. He felt a stab of guilt thinking of the arrangements she would need to make to give him that free seven day term and as he sealed the filing unit with his fingerprint he decided an apology was appropriate. Gathering his jacket he swept from his office and paused at her desk.

"When you finish sorting out the mess I have just left you, take the rest of the week off. Have a nice break."

A sucked in breath saw him on his way to the elevator and her "Thank you, Mr. Winner." was cut short as the elevator doors sealed him away from the world.

"Well, they wanted me to take a break. No doubt they will be wary of suggesting I have a vacation in future."

He ignored the elevator music, his thoughts drifting to the task ahead. His car would be waiting for him by the time he reached the ground floor and his driver would think him balmy when he was given instructions, but he had a little less than three hours to formulate the questions he needed to put to Lady Une. Certain enquiries needed to be made before then and those calls were best made on the move.

"Drive around the city. Just keep us moving until further notice."

"Sir."

One good thing about being Quatre Winner was no one asked you questions, they simply obeyed. Settling back against the plush upholstery he made the first of his calls as the car merged into traffic and the heavy snowfall.

First he required answers from his Security Chief and then his Personnel Manager would be hearing from him. He needed questions answered concerning the resignation of certain people over the last two years.

By the conclusion of his third telephone call he needed to sit back and stare at the city lights. His suppositions appeared not to be so far fetched as he had initially thought. He was making an intuitive leap and he had been careful not to give away to his people what drove his questions. The men he had spoken to were veterans of the war and had been in their positions for upwards of five years. They were not fools; he did not suffer fools lightly and he never assigned them to prominent positions in his organization.

There was one more person he needed to talk to. This one Quatre trusted implicitly and had his fingers in many pies, including the seedy underground networks of the ESUN. During the war it had been necessary to deal with the black market to acquire suitable parts to repair mobile suits and Quatre doubted he would have severed his contacts with the advent of peace.

Taking a deep breath he dialled a number and on the third ring the call was picked up. "Ahmed? I need to speak with Rashid."

Keeping his attention on the clock and the imminent meeting with Une, he instructed his driver take him to Preventer Headquarters. He needed to conclude this conversation speedily and give himself a few minutes think time. He needed to be sure of the facts he gathered and fit them into the picture he was building. He needed to consider his options before he faced Une and demanded as many answers as he could garner from her.

Before she kicked him out of the building.

Later he would need to have a few words with Marquise.

"I should have realized before."

He should have recognized it after the Mariemaia incident, but Marquise and Noin had vanished. In the aftermath he had not thought to analyse what he had sensed. He should have realized after the Libra incident, but he supposed having a metre or so of steel driven through him was excuse enough to forget.

His eyes drifted toward the mountain peaks hidden from his present view by the night. Duo was out there and Trowa. They were the ones who meant the most to him. Duo, his best friend and Trowa was much more. He was friends with Heero and Wu Fei, but they were not as close to him as the other two. They kept the distance, not he and he admitted it hurt him, but he had to make allowances for their natures.

//Now I will need to concern myself with another and he will not be easy to deal with.//

Une was waiting for him, standing behind her desk, her back to the window and the view of the snow shrouded city. He could read the tension in her, but she was always tense. It might not be his desire to speak with her; tension came part and parcel with her job description and she could not know why he was here.

"Quatre. What do you need?"

Even better, she was skipping the pleasantries.

It was late and her desk was clear of folders, her computer screen dark. She would want to go home to Mariemaia. The girl was now a teenager and a very different person to the six year old puppet she had been. They had all grown older, wiser.

"Tell me about Black Opal."

Une sucked in a breath and with it he felt her emotional freeze. She had not expected that and he smiled, cold and determined, convinced he was right.

Une considered him, sorting her thoughts, getting over the initial surprise. She would want to know where he had heard the name, who he had spoken to and what he thought he was doing interfering in matters of no concern to him.

"Black Opal? Where did you hear that reference?"

Did he want to play her game? He needed enough to work with and she was tired, she might make mistakes, but he already had what he wanted. Her unspoken reaction told him a great deal.

"Tell me about the black ops unit. Tell me about Black Opal."

Oh yes, her emotions were betraying her. The sudden spear of fear squashed quickly under a rising surge of anger. Confusion factored into the mix of emotional states and a tired resignation she refused to acknowledge.

"I will not insult either of us by suggesting I have no idea what you are talking about. The information is classified and even you do not have sufficient security clearance to learn more than you think you know."

Yes, exactly what he expected from her. Quatre smiled, aware of the tightening in her emotions as he did so. He was on a psychic high this night and he doubted anyone could have hidden anything from him. Such periods of clarity rarely happened and usually did so when he least wished it. But not this time. This time he was more than happy to feel every flicker of emotion in her.

"Does Miss Relena know her brother is a member of the black ops unit?"

"That information is classified, Winner. I repeat; you do not have the security clearance to know more than you think you know."

Her emotions flared, anger clear and sharp, but at the core he sensed unease and he knew Relena Peacecraft-Darlain had no idea her brother was involved, let alone, if his supposition was correct, he was the star operative of the unit. She was probably still naïve enough to believe there was no such unit defusing particularly dangerous hotspots throughout the ESUN.

"Is Relena a psychic, like her brother?"

Oh, the hard cold clench in Une was unmistakable. Quatre was careful not to reveal his awareness of her. He had not revealed to just anyone his Space Heart, his empathy, which was as much a curse as it was a blessing. If she had known he wondered if he would be the head of Winner Enterprises now or a part of something infinitely darker. She stood rigidly straight and outwardly emotionless, it was such a pity he had a ringside seat to the emotions beneath that unfeeling facade.

He had his answer, though she had spoken neither confirmation nor denial.

//So Marquise is a psychic. I thought as much. That's why Duo is safe from the Shadow persona. The Shadow is a manifestation of his ability and senses a similar extra sensory ability in Duo. One that does not represent a threat.//

"I have no idea what you are talking about and I suggest you leave. I have work to do."

//You do now, if you are intending to reveal I have spoken to you. Sorry Une, but this was the only option open to me short of trying to get to Marquise when they bring him back. You will make certain that does not happen. It is nothing I will not be able to deal with given a little time.//

He would need to revise his security procedures and ensure key elements in Winner Enterprises were protected. They might threaten to ruin him for his knowledge, afraid he might reveal all. Too many people depended on his company for their livelihoods for him to permit anyone to bring him down.

//I've tipped my hand by coming here to speak with you, but I had no real choice. I have sufficient resources to ensure I do not become a target for the group, but a little insurance never hurt.//

He smiled, dredging up his best Zero influenced chill and knew when her emotions reacted he had succeeded. Slowly, in carefully controlled movements, he leaned forward setting his hands on her desk and held her eyes.

"I am aware and I am warned. If you must inform them I suggest you advise they keep their paws off what belongs to me. I can bring them down as easily as they could bring ruin to me, but if I bring them down there will be nothing left for them to pick up, not even table scraps. I will not be threatened; I will not tolerate assassination attempts and if any of those I consider near and dear to me have any trouble because of this, I will retaliate in kind."

"Stay out of it, Quatre." Her voice betrayed her exhaustion, her wish this conversation had never taken place. "You don't belong in this."

"Whether I do or not depends on what happens after you speak to Them, does it not?"

Une hissed a shallow breath, glaring at him. "And if I say nothing?"

"We both know you will, that is how you were trained."

"You are meddling in things best left untouched."

He laughed, cold and mirthless. "Tell them to keep out of everything Winner. I will be auditing my books, Une and if I learn any Winner funds have been channelled into the Unit I will be forced to take action. That would be regrettable, don't you think? It may even involve going public on the existence of the unit and the government representatives sanctioning its existence."

At the angry flare in her emotions he lifted a hand, fingers spread.

"I said might. I am a business man and I am at heart a pacifist." He ignored her unladylike snort. "At heart, I am a pacifist, Une. I just have a different method of demonstrating it. Remember, there are no Gundams now."

He caught the flare in her emotions, a complex twisting of emotional upheaval and it told him far more than words could have. He was pushing her tolerance, but he needed to know enough to give him guidelines to effectively search out the details.

"No, there are no Gundams." She snapped at him.

"Winner Corporation spans the entire Earth Sphere and many colonies and areas of Earth are dependent on it for their current life styles. Should we have trouble many people will suffer. The last thing I want is for there to be unrest and war. Surely we have progressed past the point where blowing each other up solves anything."

"Well, in that at least we can agree."

Satisfied Quatre inclined his head. "I hope we understand each other. I trust those who control the Unit will also understand."

"You have made yourself quite plain, Mr. Winner."

"I hope so, Preventer Earth."

He needed to breathe the icy air and try to purge himself of her emotions. He needed to breathe and consider all he had learned, not from her words, which had offered him very little, but from her reactions, which had offered him so much more than he had suspected he would learn. What had not been said was much more important.

He would need to alert his security and have Rashid pay him a visit. He needed to maintain a certain level of alertness now he had tipped his hand. He knew the barest details, nothing vital except for his knowledge of the identity of the Black Opal and the knowledge the government had begun the construction of mobile suits.

//She could not hide it on an emotional level. I will have to have this looked into and I will have to see what I can do about Duo. Someone tried to kill Marquise and if that someone was from the operations team, then it is possible Duo may become a target after spending time with him. We are all targets.//

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	28. Chapter 28

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Crystal, Shadows, Wind Minor to Bad Night, Memories, Anger, Silver. Word count: 2,705

Series: Friends 28?

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo Zechs

Ratings: M 15[In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is. 

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge 

Chapter 28

Above the crackle of the fire he could hear the howl of the steadily diminishing wind. 

Duo fingered the gauze bandage, eyeing the slash crossing the wrist extended to him. He absently worked the used bandage into a messy roll wondering what he dare say. If he had doubted before there was no doubting now. Zechs was involved in something secret, dangerous and shadowy. 

For a moment his eyes dropped to the bandage occupying his restless fingers and he considered the possible repercussions of commenting.

While he could not be one hundred percent certain, he was pretty sure he knew what was happening, at least with the wound. Marquise was a dangerous enigma before, but after seeing the wound… Duo thought he understood and the implications behind this discovery were frightening.

Zechs appeared relaxed, but Duo could feel those eyes, blue crystal, assessing his stillness. The weight of that gaze held him in place more firmly than any hand could and he needed to decide how best to react. 

He had no idea if he wanted to comment. It would be an extremely sensible idea to wrap the wound in a light gauze bandage to keep the dirt and cold out and simply go to bed. No comment from him would equal no threat, no chance of rousing the Shadowed Beast he had glimpsed. 

That would be the sensible thing to do. The intelligent thing.

Why was he so rarely sensible?

His curiosity was a curse; it had to be. He wanted to know more and his curiosity could sign his death warrant; if not from this man's hand, then someone else might-would-seek to clean up the mess.

"You heal well."

He had needed to say something, the pressure to speak, to make an observation was intolerable and such a neutral comment was at least safe. Setting the used bandage to one side he reached for the antibiotic cream, applying a generous amount. 

The crystal eyes remained on him, watching and assessing. His skin prickled with their touch, the intensity judging his every action. He bound the wound efficiently, turning his attention to other bruises and abrasions. 

He bit his tongue, willing himself to bide his time; Marquise should be next to break the silence. He would know how much trouble he was in if Marquise would just speak.

It grated on Duo to avoid an issue as mind boggling as this. That wound, cut so precisely, so deliberately, was intended to kill. A slow death; but guaranteed death had been the intention. Tied as Zechs had been no chance of escape had been allowed. 

In light of what he had just witnessed Duo was sure he was not mistaken. Zechs should have either bled out or died of the cold, yet he lived. Given this new information he needed to re-evaluate how long the man might have been sitting in the cold. Sitting in that icy room, bleeding slowly to death, the cold numbing his extremities… 

He needed to judge how Marquise was reacting to what had happened and Duo knew the man had to understand he had recognized another element of the puzzle. Marquise was no idiot and had to have understood every twitch Duo had made since the bandage had come off.

Normally the human body could not long tolerate such bitter cold and on discovering Marquise to be alive, Duo had assumed the extreme cold had slowed and then stopped the bleeding. He had assumed the cold had stopped the blood flow and saved a life it was intended to take. 

Perhaps not. Assumption could be dangerous; it led to underestimations and dangerous ignorance.

There was another reason Zechs Marquise was alive when Duo stumbled into the scene, intent on rescuing someone no one believed needed rescuing.

He didn't understand how he had known the warning was not some sick joke. Understanding or not, the itch had driven him to distraction until he had responded. Given the shadowy persona lurking in Marquise, Duo understood he was doing remarkably well to be unharmed. 

It would be far safer to hold his peace and persevere, waiting for Marquise to make an observation. He could do that. He was not, contrary to popular belief, a chatterbox who never knew when to shut up. He could maintain his peace and wait and… Like hell he could. Curiosity was killing him and safety was overrated anyway. A little adrenaline had never hurt him.

"Nanobots?"

Damn his unruly tongue and its direct pipeline to his insatiable curiosity. His tongue just could not leave the matter alone and had to be the slave of curiosity. He was in enough trouble now; he should have had better control. 

Zechs stirred, silver white hair turned gold in the fire's glow, sliding over his shoulder. Duo could sense the shadow stir, but thankfully it did not appear to be more than merely attentive. That persona was danger personified and even in his weakened state Marquise was dangerous. Perhaps more so than if he had been hale and healthy.

Duo did not know him well enough to be certain.

"Med series T 350."

Duo, unable to contain himself, whistled softly. Marquise's voice was quiet but evenly toned, safely neutral. Duo was relieved Zechs seemed to be alright with the question. At least for the moment Duo appeared not to be in danger, but he was not inclined to roll over and play dead. Now that the question had been aired he might as well attempt to gain some additional information.

"Damn, that's a lot of money. Those are the nanobots which replicate, right?"

"In a fashion, yes." The eloquent head dipped slightly. "They are engineered and programmed to use each other to rebuild and repair faulty units and when initially injected a ready supply of 'building blocks' are also injected to perpetuate numbers."

Duo nodded slowly, considering whether he dared push for more information. He had survived the shadow and there was enough room between them that he could leap to throw aside the door and put some distance between them if he needed to. Marquise would not be as quick as he normally would be.

"T 350's haven't been generally released. I read about them on the net and that suggested another five to ten years before they would be put forward for government approval. They are rumoured to be the basis for a series of nanobots which can prolong life, regulating the body so it will not deteriorate as quickly as you age."

He sat back and dared glance up at the taller man who was, as he had thought, watching him intently. He could feel the Shadow persona lurking behind the bright blue eyes, but there was no danger. No immediate danger, he amended. 

He would need to re-evaluate just how dangerous this man could be, given this new knowledge. Not just that alternate and dark persona, now nanobots were to be taken into consideration. 

To the general public med series nanobots were experimental, but no longer so to him. He had witnessed the evidence of their work as he had salved the man's wounds. Had he not already so recently seen the wound, he would have thought it at least a week old and the bruises, if he looked more intently at the man, were not so dark as he would have expected. 

In the shadows cast by the fire, with only the firelight and camping lantern, he had not noticed the difference before. Within a couple of days the bruises and lighter abrasions would be healed and within a week Duo had little doubt Marquise's wrist would be marked only by a scar. If the nanobots were half as efficient as the article suggested, the scar would eventually fade to a faint mark. He was not certain how far the nanobots would work on the wound, but he doubted they would be able to perform what equated to plastic surgery and erase all trace.

"Are they as efficient as the reports on the net suggest they will be?"

Marquise inclined his head slightly, seemingly undisturbed by his curiosity. "It may be they are more efficient than first theorized. This is not the first time I have had need of them." 

Duo arched an eyebrow. "How long have you been using them?"

Something flickered in the blue eyes and Duo almost tensed, but it was gone as quickly as it came and he was uncertain what it had been. Zechs lightly run a finger over the bandaging.

"I was originally injected with the F 120 series when I was sixteen. I have had several updates between then and now."

Duo absently tossed a piece of wood on the fire. "You were… You have been using nanobots since you were sixteen? Then… Libra?"

He was uncertain how to phrase what it was he wanted to ask and as usual Marquise seemed to flinch at mention of the space fortress and the reminder of the final days of the war.

"By that time I was using the M 830 series."

"You survived Libra because you were using nanobot technology." Duo whispered. "I always wondered. I mean, it was one spectacular explosion."

"Especially from where I was sitting." Zechs murmured, crystal eyes gleaming in the firelight. "The nanobots helped." 

Duo caught the undertone in his voice, the flicker in his eyes. There was pain there and he wondered how badly the man had been hurt and how long it had taken for him to receive help. Nothing had been said in his hearing of where Zechs had gone, or what he had been doing after Libra. Healing was fairly obvious, he supposed, but there had to be more to his life than that. 

It was not until Zechs had appeared from out of obscurity to delay and hold Dekim Barton's forces that Duo had given thought to the Prince of Sanc. He had been content in his life at that point, though he could not say the same thing for his life following that brief incident. 

He had just been glad the war was over and he was, miraculously, alive. It was later he had found discontent with everything he did. Had Marquise found that same discontent? 

"Guess there are perks to having friends in high places."

"There are more drawbacks than perks." 

The whisper reached Duo and he flicked a glance at Marquise to find him staring into the flames.

"Yeah." Duo whispered. "Guess so."

Someone was out to kill the man, after all. Someone who had access to classified information, meaning there was more than one person behind the attempted murder.

Taking a deep breath Duo began to tidy up after his ministrations, packing away the equipment in the med kit and then settled back, listening to the howling of the wind in the trees.

"I'll work on digging the chopper out after breakfast. By mid afternoon we should be back in Sanc." 

"What will you do with me?"

Like a switch that sense of presence was back, a flicker of awareness, dark and dangerous; waiting. His own sense of urgency was dormant now, calm and controlled and it allowed him to know there was no direct danger to him. Whatever the darkness in Marquise was, it was not dangerous at this time. 

"Do with you?"

Marquise sighed and shifted his weight, easing aches and pains. Even laying claim to nano technology did not mean one was immune to discomfort. 

"Duo Maxwell, I am dead. For the peace to rest easy, I must remain dead."

Duo scowled, drawing his knees up, circling his arms around his legs and glaring into the fire. "Yeah. That's right. You are dead and buried… well, not exactly buried, but there is a headstone and everything."

The silence lengthened and Duo did not particularly want to break it. It felt dangerous somehow, not exactly threatening, but certainly not comfortable. Something he was not going to like was in the works, but his perception of danger was not driving him to action.

"You may want to consider lying low for a time." The deep voice whispered; the warning in the low rumble clear enough. "Those who profess to know what is best for the peace, like to keep their secrets."

Duo sighed softly. There it was; he knew it had to come. Not a threat from Marquise, but a warning. It was meant as a thank you for saving his life; the acknowledgement Duo might have sealed his own death warrant. 

"How long do I need to run and how deep should I bury myself?"

"I will endeavour to determine who wants me dead and ensure you have protection with all speed. If you could give me a month or two to establish safeguard; my first priority will be to ensure you are safe from repercussions." 

Repercussions. He saved a man's life and his own might be forfeit for the act. Wonderful. Really, as he had thought, the world had not changed.

"It won't be the first time I need to show my heels to hunters." 

"It should not be necessary that you run, but it would be safest. The day is coming when I will find a hole for myself, away from their missions." Crystal eyes reflected dancing flame, shimmering with more than firelight. "I have died and while it was painful, it is usually the resurrection that requires the most pain and effort. I will ensure you will not be hunted for long."

Duo, without consciously thinking about it, began to strip. "You know, I've not really had a home that was one set place. I've tried, but I guess I have itchy feet. Just as well, really. I don't know what I want to do with myself, so how can I decide to set down roots? I might vacation in the colonies for a while, bum around and see what's changed." 

"The idea has merit."

He was not certain what it was that made him do it, but he met the blue eyes with sudden intensity. "A Person can loose one's self fairly quickly in the colonies, in the back streets and slums of L2. If they know how to blend in, no one would ever find them."

He could see the blue eyes were fierce and bright. They understood each other only too well and he could not understand why. He had spoken to Marquise with easy comradery and too few people he called friend, but Marquise now numbered in their ranks.

"You helped me, Duo. I will ensure there is insurance in place to protect your back. Say nothing to anyone of what you have learned. Those who pull my strings have short tolerance and would use any excuse to exercise their will." 

Sudden anger sparked in Duo. "Une's up to her eyeballs in it, isn't she? Une and Preventers."

Intense blue held him motionless, forcing him to fight against the anger, to contain his rage. 

"The less you know, the better, my friend."

"They are after me to join Preventers, you know? Chang and Yuy. Barton too. Quatre's the only one who seems to understand I don't know what I want to do, but I do know what I don't want to do, you know? I've had my fill of killing and I want something else. Something I don't even understand."

"Hunt it, Duo Maxwell. Don't take what your friends want because it will give them peace of mind. You deserve better than that. Give yourself the time to find it."

"You think?" Duo shrugged, bare chest turned gold by the flickering fire light. "Need to pee?"

"No."

Duo nodded, turned out the lamp and dropped his trousers and boots. Marquise watched as the younger man flicked the sleeping bag open and slipped in beside him. Did Duo Maxwell even consider what he was lying down beside? Duo had seen the shadow within him. He had felt the danger and still he crawled into the sleeping bag and settled down to sleep. 

"Night."

Zechs sighed softly and inched himself carefully deeper into the bag, feeling himself being drawn to the source of warmth so close to him.

"Good night."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	29. Chapter 29

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Shadows Minor to Veteran, Hair, Wind Word count: 2,086

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Shadows Minor to Veteran, Hair, Wind Word count: 2,086

Series: Friends 29/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge Lady Une, Zechs and Duo

Chapter 29

"So… how do you gain control of your dreams?"

"By expedient use of the word 'No'."

"Eh?" Duo stirred, pushing back against his warmth.

He had hoped to sleep, but that blissful state eluded him. And it would be blissful only if the nightmares stayed at bay, which was not always the case. Duo, it seemed, was as cursed with a wakeful mind as he, or was he attempting to hold off sleep and elude his own brand of night horror?

"You make a resolution and you persevere until you succeed."

"Just saying it will do nothing."

"You begin to establish control by forcing the dream to recognize your authority. It is not easy, but it is possible to exercise such control over our subconscious. You must be firm, strong. Resolute. A dream should be your fantasy to play in, not a device of torture. Within the dreamscape it is you who rule. You set the limits. You merely need to assert your authority."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I mean, you're asleep. How the heck do you tell your dreams no?"

It was pleasant to have this warmth against him, warmth he had not shared for too long. Those days were long gone and this was only temporary and innocent, a requirement of survival, nothing less. Still, it was nice to savour while he had the opportunity.

"Do you know when you are dreaming the nightmares; do you recognize it? The memories that warp into a punishment should be recognizable to you. With practise you will be able to recognize them early in the dream, before it deteriorates."

Duo sighed softly in the darkness. "I… sometimes know from the start, but other times… those times I don't realize until the end, when it gets really bad."

"Yes, those are the hardest. In the dreaming process we are free to mix fantasy with reality and with memories. The stuff of dreams is made up of memory, imagination and impressions of reality peculiar to the dreaming individual. To gain control of your dreams does not happen immediately, it is something you need to practise to perfect. The first thing you need to do is to recognize what is dream, safe and even comforting, but a healthy relief for your subconscious and what will deteriorate into that other dreamscape, the one where everything lurks, waiting for you. When you recognize the dream and what it will be if it goes unchecked, you must determine if you want to dream it. You must consciously make that choice to assert your authority and end it."

"Damn, Zechs, that's not exactly easy to say, but it sure as hell ain't going to be so easy to do, you know?"

He brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and resisted the urge to snuggle closer. They were already pressed hard to each other and it was not really cold in the confines of the bag. He knew why they sought out the contact, not just he but Duo also. They each wanted to feel the physical presence of another person. After feeling alone for so long, to find another who knew the night horrors and entertained a largely solitary existence, warm physical contact, freely given, was to be savoured for however long it lasted.

As desirable as it was it was dangerous. Danger lurked in them wanting it too much and stepping beyond the comfort zone. To trespass on territory not ready to be traversed would be a mistake and he was thankful his body was weak enough not to react to the warm body on a more intimate level.

"I never said it would be easy or a quick fix. I did not succeed the first time, nor did I succeed the twentieth time I tried, but the point is I persevered and I did succeed. These things can not be rushed. You need to establish your control. It is, after all, your dream. Meditation techniques can help in strengthening your mental control. It is more than simply saying no and meaning it. You must prepare yourself to back that 'no' with your total belief in your ability to stop the horror."

"So just saying 'No, go the shit away', won't work?"

Had Maxwell honestly expected it to be that easy? Surely not. The younger man was bright and though somewhat depressed he had not abandoned what it was to want to live life to the full. Not yet, at least and if Zechs could do anything to influence circumstances, Duo never would take that self destructive road.

"Unfortunately, no. I do not know how bad your dreams have become, but mine were leading me down a personally destructive path. Had I not gained control of them I doubt I would be alive today, nanobots not withstanding. There is only so much a nanobot cluster can do and if you are truly intent on killing yourself, then nothing will stop you."

Duo considered in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind howling beyond their shelter. He was glad he was not outside on this night, though the present conditions were a vast improvement on the previous night. It was far better to spend the night indoors and with company than it was to be up close and personal with a mountain storm.

"Did you try?"

It came out as a whisper and Duo wished he could have bitten back the words. You did not go around asking virtual strangers if they had ever tried to kill themselves. It was not done and to make matters worse he could not apologize. Zechs would not appreciate an apology at this time, any more than he himself would. One might wonder and speculate, but one did not ask, not after knowing the man for little more than twenty four hours.

"I suppose you could consider Libra my suicide attempt. I did not intend to survive it when I sent Heero from the reactor core. It was not his place to detonate it; it was mine. I had played with the lives of so many and I hated it. For peace to come all who had been seen as Commanders of the individual factions at conflict with each other had to die; at least, those who had traceable questionable pasts. There had to be one survivor, the victor people would see and recognize and could accept. One survivor, who stood for something very different to the policies of the recent times."

"Relena and the pacifist faction." Duo breathed.

"Let the warmongers be seen to die, to kill themselves off in one final bloody battle. A festival of blood and death to disgust the peace lovers; and while we were at it take the bulk of the weapons into obscurity. Let the lesson make them think twice about stirring warriors to life once more."

"I never did understand what the hell you thought you were doing."

He sighed, feeling the shadow within stir, but there was no real danger of rousing it. Memories of that time still stung, hurting deeply, but in Duo there was no source of contempt to fire the danger lying within him. Duo was a veteran of the wars; he had been a soldier and knew the costs of killing. They had not been on the same side, although that was by design, unbeknownst to Duo and the other pilots. They had not realized, even to this day, exactly what they, he and Treize, were fighting for. There had been so much misunderstanding, so much blood and pain filtering down through the intervening years. It had had to be stopped.

"Most people will never understand what was intended." It was nice to breathe in the scent of him, so close and so warm. "Too many of the few who do understand choose to use the extremes one was willing to go through to achieve the desired end to gain cooperation. They use the weapon they do not understand and expect it not to have a will of its own."

Duo puzzled that out carefully and resisted the urge to turn over and go eyeball to eyeball with the man. He had too vivid a memory of seeing shadowy darkness in those blue eyes. Knowing the danger that lurked there he was not eager to chance seeing it again. Although, given he could not see his hand before his own nose, he undoubtedly would not see anything anyway.

But he would feel it.

He would feel the shadow and know the death blow was coming, though not from which direction. He, Duo Maxwell, was a dangerous man, but he was skin to skin with a man who was equally as dangerous, if not more so. If Marquise should became desperate for any reason it might tip the scales in his favour; if all sense and sensibility deserted them.

Duo was up for taking risks, but not stupid ones.

"People who take advantage of the lengths you went to to change how things were." A world of speculation could be opened up in exploring that. "Lady Une would have known. She knows what you do now for a living?"

"She does." A whisper in the darkness.

"Do you think she would have had a part in this attempt on your life?"

Ah, Zechs mused, now that was a good question, one he had already considered and he would reconsider at a more convenient time, but for now… No.

"I might have, if there was no further use for me, but no, I doubt it. Lady Une is not one to cast aside a useful weapon because it might bite the hand that wields it. This is not her style; she is far more subtle, though once I might have thought it of her. Time has taught me much of the Lady and the extremes she will and will not pursue."

"She wasn't all that subtle about killing Relena's father."

Duo had heard the story before and he had been surprised. Well, more than surprised by the method of the assassination. It had been risky for Une to take out the delegation as she had. Relena had proven how simple it was to have the bomb discovered and moved. It had been quick action by the Lady to save her own hide, that of her men and Relena herself and still take out her intended targets. The cover story had been quick and neat but the kill itself had been coldly calculated.

Une was more than capable of arranging for this much less visible assassination.

"Did you once hear, via the media, that it was by her hand the conference was bombed?"

That forced a sighed from him. "No."

"Was it from Relena you learned what had really happened?"

"Yes."

"Did you not wonder why, even after the war, Une was not brought up on charges for the murder of Darlian and the others attending the conference?"

Duo blinked, shaking his head slightly in the darkness. "No, come to think of it. I never gave it a thought. The war was over. All I wanted to do was start again."

"Une makes herself useful to the right people. She made her peace with Relena and Mrs. Darlian is wise to the ways of the world of politics and knows not to rock the boat. Une is useful to run Preventers and maintain the peace. That which it is deemed Preventers can not, or should not, handle is passed to others who have proven their usefulness in the shadows." He sniffed delicately. "All for the greater good, of course."

"People like you." It was not a question.

"For now. Someone has decided I have outlived my usefulness. I will vanish soon, but not before I pay my respects to the one who bids me leave on their terms."

A shiver traced the course of Duo's back. Something extremely dark and dangerous came across in that quiet declaration and it was a promise. Someone would die; potentially more than one.

"They'll know you survived soon enough. Be careful they don't try again and this time, more subtly."

It was nice that Duo was inclined to warn him, but he knew the dangers. He knew them only too well and he would be happy to leave it all behind him. Not that he could ever cease to look over his shoulder. These people would not forget any more than he would.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	30. Chapter 30

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Bad Night

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Bad Night. Minor to Wind. Word count: 2,131

Series: Friends 30/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Trowa + Heero + Wu Fei

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries www.gundam-wing-diaries./gw/Karina/gwKarina.htm

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge

Chapter 30

"Am I so paranoid I see conspiracy theories in everything?"

Yuy snorted, his back pressed to a tree as he adjusted the cloth tied over his lower face. Night vision goggles covered the upper half, making it possible for him to see in this world of snow and wind and trees and offering some meagre protection from the elements. At his feet Chang tended the camp stove, positioning himself and the stove to take the best advantage of the thicket so that the unit was sheltered from the wind.

It would be a frugal meal, but the hot soup would seem a feast in these conditions. Trowa was looking forward to it, eyeing the covered pot eagerly. He was beginning to think his companions would not answer him, not that he could blame them. They were Gundam pilots and Gundam pilots were paranoid at the best of times.

"We can not be far from the chopper." Yuy raised his goggles and rubbed at his eyes, a rare indication of his exhaustion.

Trowa retreated behind his silence, concentrating on watching the snow filled night and wishing he had the mug of hot soup in his hands already. It would do much to thaw his aching fingers. It was bitterly cold and there it was again, that vision of a warm bed and warmer body. Daydreaming of Quatre and their bed served to make the cold worse, but it kept him going, slogging his way through snow drifts, stumbling over hidden boulders and buried bushes.

Despite the improvement in conditions he still called it a bad night, one he would be glad to see end.

He had expected from Yuy's earlier comments to have reached Duo's location by this time, but there was no sight of the helicopter. The GPS unit showed the choppers location to be some distance from their current position. It was not so much the howling wind and falling snow which hindered their progress, but the mass of snow through which they had to force their way. A great deal of snow had fallen in the mountains, far more than had fallen on New Port City.

"You see conspiracies because there are conspiracies in everything," Chang's voice was muffled by the scarf. "Business, politics, it varies little. There will be something there, lurking beneath the respectable public front. Someone will have something planned to further their own ambition at a cost to others."

Chang straightened his back but remained kneeling beside the stove, no doubt grateful for what small warmth it generated. While conditions were heavier than they had expected, they had come too far to backtrack to the helicopter and wait for morning.

Trowa looked about carefully, the world surrounding them tinted weirdly green by the night vision goggles he wore. If he could have found a better location, one offering more protection from the wind, he would have considered suggesting they pitch the survival tent and wait out the night.

He might have suggested it, but he doubted the other two would have agreed. They were too close to the location of the helicopter the GPS unit was broadcasting to warrant that luxury. Neither of his companions would be inclined to linger any longer than heating and drinking the reviving soup would allow.

"Une must know more. Little gets by that woman." They would probably not appreciate the comment, but he was cold and tired and concerned.

This entire affair was suspicious. It raised too many questions and he did not know if Heero or Wu Fei had been asking themselves the same questions. They gave every indication of being content to work for Preventers but he had learned, at long last, to question. For years he had not questioned, had not determined if his own personal ideals matched with his employers. To be honest he had had no personal ideals, he had simply existed, with no where to go and no family.

Until he had met Quatre. In the last few years, as they had matured and Quatre had come into his own, Trowa had grown and learned more than the art of killing. He had a place he wanted to be, a person he wanted to be with and Quatre had taught him to question the fine lettering in a contract.

Something smelt putrid, but could he do anything about it? Should he even try?

They were under instruction to retrieve Milliardo Peacecraft. Retrieve him and that was it. Une had not told him to investigate the incident, merely retrieve the man and in the doing, retrieve Duo.

"One has to ask if it is our place to question."

He was lookout, though what they expected to find wandering around in this weather, intent on inflicting harm upon them he did not know. Surely every animal native to these mountains was sensible enough to be tucked down in their dens and nests, intent on keeping body warmth and waiting out the elements. It was amazing how sensible animals could be, and how stupid humans proved themselves every day in comparison.

Trowa scowled, not liking Chang's comment at all. He had learned to question after surviving the war and realizing in Quatre he had an irreplaceable treasure. Burying his head in the sand of ignorance only permitted one's enemies to sneak up for a killing blow and he had had enemies from a very early age. He had the scars to prove his close encounters from earlier, more innocent days.

He was older, wiser, more enlightened now. He had a lot to survive for.

"I like to know what I am working for," Yuy's quiet comment seemed to fill the darkness. "I like to know who is pulling my strings and why they are doing so. I like to know, now that I know enough to ask the right questions, if I am working for the right side."

So Yuy too had learned to question. Undoubtedly Chang had too. They had survived the war, their individual turbulent pasts and were too wise now to the ways of the world to be used as once they had been.

Chang scowled at the snow feathering his arm. The arctic parka was waterproof and he could not actually feel the snow, but he glowered at it as though he could. He made no effort to brush it off; such would be wasted effort given the conditions.

"Even then doubt remains, something happens and one questions if one is working for the right side."

"Or if there is a right side," Trowa murmured.

It was hardly the time or place for such discussions and he knew they all understood it, but the speculation was something to take their minds off the conditions. There had been discussions similar to this in the past, usually on the eve of action. During the fire fight there was no time to wonder if one was doing the right thing and after the mission there was usually too much to do. It was long after the fact, when any injured were dealt with, reports filled out in triplicate and one had time to draw breath that one had to wonder if what had been done was done for the right reasons.

It was so easy to say what you did was for the good of all, to preserve the peace and you were on the side of right. No doubt the opposing faction thought the same.

"A Black Ops unit," Yuy stirred, sidling around the bulk of the tree in an effort to improve his shelter. "There have been rumours of one for a while."

Chang leaned forward, lifting the lid on the pot and peered at the steaming contents. "Rumours do not necessarily make for fact."

Trowa watched as the unit was shut down and the soup was quickly poured off into tin mugs and handed out. He was quick to doff his gloves to allow his fingers to feel the hot metal. The warmth was welcome, both on his skin and on its way down his gullet.

"Where there is smoke there is sure to be fire," Yuy responded. "I have heard the rumour from a variety of sources, though not from Preventers."

That came as no surprise to Trowa. The pacifist regime was big on discipline without killing and would not be seen to sanction a Black Operations Unit. Such units were licensed to kill, full of dirty tricks and would be a source of supreme embarrassment to the Pacifists if it should become public knowledge.

Prventers had Special Operations Units, of which Trowa and Chang were a part. Black Ops would be kept separate from Preventer.

"Informants?"

"Yes." Yuy almost buried his nose in the mug, allowing the steam to thaw his face. "There are whispers circulating in the underground, but no one will say anything directly."

"There have been fewer alerts in recent months. Might it be feasible Marquise is now considered expendable?"

"An expedient kill?" Chang scowled. "Anyone in a Black Ops unit is considered expendable in the interests of the mission."

As once they had been considered expendable by those who had controlled them. Tools were useful only whilst one had a use for them.

"Perhaps he is seen to have outlived his usefulness and has simply proven too hard to kill on missions." Trowa suggested.

His companions finished off their soup in thoughtful silence. Chang dismantled the cook unit and Yuy pulled on his gloves, bending to wash out his mug with snow.

"If you want a man dead you assign him to impossible missions," Chang commented.

"If he returns from the mission you find a dirtier one; one that will ensure there will be no allowance for survival." Yuy straightened, tossing his mug into his backpack.

"And if he returns from that?" Trowa slipped a glove on and wiped his own mug out with a fist full of snow.

"You arrange a hit," Chang replied.

"It is feasible. My guess would be someone was waiting for him as he returned from a mission." Yuy settled the pack comfortably and dusted the snow from his heavy gloves.

"He would not be easy to surprise, so someone would have to have been given access to the residence. They could have just killed him on the spot." Trowa brushed the snow from his glove on his trouser leg and pulled on his remaining glove.

"Perhaps they were meant to." Chang finished packing the gear and straightened. "Perhaps instead of choosing a professional for the kill they chose someone with a reason to hate him, a reason to kill."

"You mean a loose cannon who had his own ideas; abducting Marquise from the house instead of sedating him and killing him neatly and coldly. He had to have his kicks instead."

Heero snorted, pulled his goggles over his eyes and wrapped a scarf around his lower face. "There is no shortage of weirdo's out there. Nor is there a shortage of people with a pet hate against Marquise."

The muffled comment signalled their departure, as did the glance at the GPS unit. Trowa wrapped his face in his scarf and settled his goggles more comfortably across the bridge of his nose.

/Not a pleasant thought and it means we will need to hunt more than one person./

If, he mused, they did not have the assignment taken from them when they returned with Marquise. Une had assigned them this mission, but there were others out there who would not want Marquise found; who would fear his retribution.

If Une intended to have Preventers investigate the matter and those above her determined to squash the investigation…

/It could get messy quickly./

Someone controlled the Black Ops unit and he doubted that person was Une. She headed Preventers and Preventers could not afford to be sullied by whispers of such a unit. Someone would likely want to stop any investigation from happening and given Marquise was, according to Quatre, alive, they would not want his glacial gaze turning on them.

Marquise was warned though and would not likely fall victim to the same trick twice.

/They will try again, only this time they will take more care; set a professional up against him. Take particular care to cover their arses./

Who these people were and where they were placed in the government hierarchy would depend on how quickly they acted once they learned Marquise was alive. They could be exclusively based in the military, business or government circles or, more likely, a combination of the three.

"I hope Quatre has the good sense to stay out of this shit."

One thing he was sure about was that Marquise would be out for retribution and he did not want Quatre or Duo involved.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	31. Chapter 31

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadows, Anger, Resolution Minor to Word count: 2,481

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadows, Anger, Resolution Minor to Word count: 2,481

Series: Friends 31/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Sister Helen, Solo

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Character Challenge Duo, Zechs and Quatre

Chapter 31

"Come out of there, young man."

"No."

It would all go away if he refused to cooperate with the horror.

"Young man, I have no idea what you think you are doing, but supper is on the table and everyone is waiting to say Grace. You are holding up dinner."

It was always the same. Always he was told to work for others; told not to be a problem, not to cause problems. He was tired of fighting the good fight for others benefit.

"No."

From beyond his concealing shadows he could hear the rustle of her habit, marking an impatient movement. He liked her, but some days she was not as patient with him as others and she expected him to remember his place. He had looked after others for as long as he could remember; since Solo had stopped looking after him. It was the way it was, but he was tired and he was afraid and the horror was beginning all over again.

Her voice was firm and coaxing. She had a lovely voice and she sang like the angels he had seen pictures of. There was a statue of an angel in the church and he was beautiful but fierce looking and Sister Helen said his name was Michael. Michael was brave and courageous and defended those who were weak and Sister said that he should be like Michael.

He had wanted to be like Solo once and she said he should be like the angel with the sword of flames. He should be strong and know what was right. Her voice could shame him into tears when she was upset with him and some days he had no idea what he had done to make her angry. Angels in Heaven might weep to hear her singing voice, but her voice could flay the skin from him for his misdemeanours.

"Duo, come out here this instant."

She was getting angry because he was not obedient and they were all waiting for him, but that was alright. It was alright because he was getting angry too.

He recognized where this road he walked was leading. He had been down the self same road too often for him not to recognize it and he had had enough. He was not going to do it all over again.

He had let himself believe there could be more for him than the streets and he had promised her he would look out for others. He was a street rat who refused to stay on the streets and she encouraged him to reach beyond the limits of his surroundings and want more.

It was going to get worse before it got better, but he had been given hope. Hope he might be able to change the way it always happened.

"Duo, what am I going to do with you?" She sounded exasperated. "Must I go in and fetch the Father to see to you?"

He had wondered when she would employ that tactic. It usually worked; no one wanted Father Maxwell to be angry. It usually worked, but not tonight. He was not going to leave his shadows and jump feet first into the nightmare.

"No."

Ah no, even he could hear the difference in that 'no'. He was weakening, his defiance less, resolve crumbling beneath the onslaught of habit. He had been down the road too often and the result was always the same. Father would come and talk to him about how we must always think of others and fit in and help. He should apologize to everyone for keeping them waiting. They were hungry and was he not hungry too? Someone some day would come who would want him as a son and he needed to know how to be a good son, an obedient son.

He would give in, lose his resolve and surrender to the inevitability of it. He would give in and apologize and they would say Grace and they would eat a meagre but filling meal, and in the new day, as punishment, he would have extra lessons and chores to do. That was how it was.

That was how the nightmare always began.

"I don't know what you are hiding from, Duo, but you really must get over it, dear. You are not on the streets now and there are many things, important things, for you to do. You like being here with us, don't you? You like going to school and you have friends."

His heart clenched. Here it was-it was coming. It would tell him how horrible the nightmare would be. Just when he hoped he could escape it by holding his resolve… he had promised himself he would not give in to the Father this time. However, it might not be the Father, because she had said the Friends word.

Friends.

Just when he thought it might be alright, she had said it, but no, he could not let that weaken his resolution to endure and break the cycle. He would not fall into the pit this time. It did not matter that his friend would come, that it would be his friend and not the Father who broke his determination. It did not matter and he would get angry if he needed to. He would.

He was not going to go down that road into screaming horror again.

Someone, some where, some when had told him if you said no you could stop it.

"Duo, get your butt out here this instant! If I have to get the Father I swear you will have to stand to eat your next meal."

If he said no he could stop it.

"No," A whisper, the barest breath of air between parted lips.

She had said Friends, and that would conjure up one he ached to see and hear. If she had not said it, if he could have avoided this moment, held his resolve, his determination to break out before the horror came…

Say no and mean it. That was what he had to do. Say no and mean it.

He would not acknowledge it. He would not see it. It was all a lie anyway so why see it? It just was not real.

"That's it; stick it to the bat lady. Nun's always think they know it all and you have to do what you are told. We know better, don't we, eh?"

He was not there. He was not there, beside him in his shadows. He was alone, just himself lurking in the shadows, trying to get the world to pass him by and he was not about to open his eyes and see who lurked in his shadows. He had to remember the magic word and make it all go away.

If he opened his eyes…

He might see Solo. He might see Sister Helen.

If he opened his eyes he would see their walking corpses.

"Nnoo."

Wasn't he supposed to say it like he meant it? Wasn't he supposed to be in command? Wasn't he supposed to be in control of his own dreams?

He was dreaming. He recognized the dream, the way it always started. It started with him hiding at dinner time and Sister Helen coming after him. It always began that way, the dreams that ended up really bad and had him sobbing like an infant and curled into a ball of misery; the dreams that left him afraid of the darkness.

Say it and mean it, he had said, who ever He was. He had thought it good advice somewhere in the past, or was it in the future? It had been somewhere; somewhere away from the shadows and the nun who still waited for him.

He could say it and mean it. He could. It was just a matter of practise.

"This is not real and when I say no, I mean NO! You are not real and you will not be there."

"What are you prattling on about? Hey, you really should not pass up a good meal. What did I teach you? Eat while you can, when you can. Now get out there and eat that meal. It's free. You can say a few hail Mary's and a yes Ma'am or two to get your belly full. You never pass up a meal. After you eat you can run and hide."

"No."

God, this was pathetic. That sounded so wimpish. He was supposed to be sure of himself, decisive and commanding. He could not command a flea to bite a dog, let alone command the night horrors to leave him alone.

"Duo."

He crouched deeper in his shadows. That voice…? He did not recognize the voice, though he was sure he should. There was something familiar about it. It was deep and low, a whisper, more of a rumble from the earth beneath him and behind him. That was problematical. How could it be from beneath and behind him? He had a floor under his feet and a solid wall behind him. He was pressing his back into a cold wall as security against his ghosts coming up on him from behind.

"Young man, I am fast losing my patience."

The Sister had been good to him but it was not right, everything was wrong and he was losing the battle to be strong. He needed a darker place to hide, one more secure, where no one would find him.

"Duo, we have a problem."

He knew that voice, low and deep. He knew it but… where from?

"It's a free meal, you git. Nosh. Chow. Go on, get into it and then bolt. I'll meet you under the red sector and you be sure to bring me some of that food. I'm so hungry I could…"

"Duo! We have a problem."

The deep voice drowned out Solo. It was shocking to realize it. No other voice he had imagined had ever managed to drown out Solo. Solo would drag him out of the shadows and into the nightmare. Solo or the Father would do it. They would pull him into the light and he would see them, in all their gory glory. Dead, but recognizable.

There would be so many of them. So many, all waiting just for him to come out of hiding. All waiting to scream at him and claw at him and blame him.

"I can't do it."

He was hopeless. It was impossible.

Command his nightmare? Who was he trying to kid?

He was sounding more and more like a little kid afraid of his own shadow and the dream would take a turn for the worse soon. He would be thrown out of his enveloping shadows and be thrust into the midst of Them. They would surround him and start to circle him, a never ending circle of faces. Some he would recognize and so many of them were strangers to him.

Strangers, but he knew them. He knew them because he had killed them. They knew him, their murderer.

"Enough. There is need of you, Shinigami. Wake up."

The command reached deep within him and grasped something he had been hiding from for a very long time. It grasped him by the throat and shook him, tossing him out into the light and he screamed his fear of the nightmare. He did not want to see them again! He was tired of seeing them all the time.

He would not look, he would keep his eyes closed and …

Why was it warm?

Why did it feel as though strong arms surrounded him, shielding him?

He did not understand the change in the sequence of dreaming and his eyes were open, but he was seeing nothing. There was a light all about him, enfolding him in a warm cocoon with these powerful comforting arms.

"You will need to learn how to do this for yourself, Duo Maxwell. You must learn to accept who you are, who you were and who you will be. To do that, you must accept the you in every stage of your life. We are never one person; always facets of the one. You are many fragments all contained within the folds of fragile flesh."

The strong arms held him immobile, but he was curiously unafraid of the restriction and he had never liked being restrained. The voice, deep and commanding was not unkind, though it was not gentle.

"You will learn to look at your ghosts and you will learn to put names to them. You will know who and what they are when the time is right. Hiding from them is no way to begin."

"I can't do it."

He felt weak, helpless. He was useless to himself as well as to everyone else. He was hopeless. He always would be. He had only known how to kill, and the reasons for the killings had blurred and become subject to doubt. He had been lied to so many times that he did not know if any of the reasons to fight had been justified.

"Fool." The deep rumble was surprisingly gentle. "It takes time."

The arms squeezed firmly, a comforting pressure, and then released him. He felt large hands grasp him by the shoulders and he was sure the life would be shaken out of him, so firmly was he shaken.

"Wake up. We are not alone."

The command was imperative and there was no denying its power.

He opened his eyes to darkness and the feel of a larger body pressed close to him. There was harsh breathing close to his ear and hands restrained his reflexive strike; a blow that could maim and kill if it hit the right spot. It was not safe to wake him from a nightmare, as Quatre should know. He supposed he should apologize to his friend, but Quatre should have known not to lean over him to wake him.

"What…?"

"Maxwell. We are not alone."

He could not gain control of his breathing fast enough to satisfy him. It was all wrong and he needed to focus. That was not Quatre's voice and why was it so freaking dark? He should know that voice, it was familiar. Just a moment to draw breath and he was sure he would remember where he had heard it before.

"I… Zechs?" No matter how he tried he could see nothing in the stygian gloom. "Where the fuck am I?"

"Hopefully waking up." The droll comment was accompanied by a deep sigh.

"I… I was…" He shuddered, recalling clearly enough the dream which had not had a chance to drag him in to its horror. "You… You were there. How? How could you be in my dream? How could you make it go away?"

"We have company. Do you have a spare gun?"

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	32. Chapter 32

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadows, Wind Minor to Anger , Hair, Contest Word count: 2,417

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadows, Wind Minor to Anger , Hair, Contest Word count: 2,417

Series: Friends 32/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries www.gundam-wing-diaries./gw/Karina/gwKarina.htm

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge:

Chapter 32

"You were in my dream."

Duo could not see the man but he could feel him, their close proximity marked by body heat close at hand. Marquise was within inches of him-he could feel the caress of long hair against his hand. This did not feel like a part of his nightmare.

"We have company, Duo."

There was no time; no time for answering questions that were not safe to ask, let alone answer. He could feel them, out there in the snow. The shadow within him would stir; it always stirred if it determined he was in danger. He was neither alone, nor undefended, and he was on his guard. He would not again be taken unawares.

Duo was here and he did not want to rouse the Shadow again in the presence of the younger man. There was entirely too much he could not afford to explain and Duo had already witnessed too much.

Someone would pay for the intrusion into his only sanctuary. To be on guard all the time was to give the Shadow license to rule him and he had determined he would not permit that. He needed to find another place he could call home; a place he could be assured he would be undisturbed. Not even his controllers would be entrusted with its location.

They would not like it, but they would answer for their betrayal. Any who survived his quest for answers would simply have to accept it. No one would be given security clearance to his safe house once established.

There had to be one place at least where he could afford to let down his guard.

"Zechs. I want some answers."

"There is no time. If you are awake enough to be obstinate, then you are awake enough to listen. We have company."

Duo hesitated, staring into the darkness. It was so dark there was no hint of a shape for him to orient to. His hands clutched material and he could hear breathing, his own and that of the man beside him.

"Company?"

"We have company coming."

For a long moment Duo strained to hear. The walls of the pantry insulated sound but he could hear the wind howling beyond the building. He wondered how deeply the cabin was now buried by snow, as he must have been asleep for a few hours and he doubted the snowfall had abated any.

"I can't hear anything."

"Never the less, we are not alone."

Duo would have no means of knowing to trust his instincts. Duo was unaware of his capabilities; they had not worked together in any real capacity since the Mariemaia incident and that had been in mobile suits. It had to lead to more awkward questions he should not answer, but Duo Maxwell was already a walking dead man as far as his controllers would be concerned. Because he had witnessed an assassination attempt, Duo was a marked man.

The murder of a supposedly dead man would lead to the murder of another.

They intended he remain dead; he was of more use to them this way, but some of them wanted him truly dead. He kept telling himself it was worth it, trying to make himself believe that Libra was worth the hell he lived. It was to ensure peace, but some days the thought of ending the torment was tempting.

But such was not to be. He had survived this attempt on his life and he would ensure the perpetrators would regret their methods. It would be a contest of wills, a contest of survival instincts and, warned, he would not be found lacking. He would win and go to ground, become dead once more; hopefully this time there could be a peaceful and unremarkable life to be lived.

He had had quite enough of the world.

No doubt the world had had enough of him.

"Zechs, talk to me. What makes you think we have company?"

"I can feel them."

Duo blinked in the darkness. He could feel them?

Why was he moving, fumbling for the zip and intending to investigate in these conditions on the strength of a feeling?

/It's just a feeling? Damn, I'm insane to be getting out of a nice warm bed, practically naked and intending to stomp through a snow storm./

Beyond the tent a few glowing deep red points marked the embers of the fire. Fumbling around in the sleeping bag Duo found his companion's leg, empty sleeping bag, his companion's feet, more empty sleeping bag and, finally, the torch. The advent of light was greeted with a profound sigh of relief and a grunt from Zechs, who ducked his head away from the light shining directly into his face.

"Sorry. You say we have company?"

A tired sigh accompanied the flash of icy blue eyes before the fall of hair shadowed his face as Zechs ducked away from the light.

"Yes."

"And you know this because you can feel them?"

"Yes."

Duo sniffed, reaching for his clothes and wincing at the damp icy cold of his trousers and he pulled them on.

"How close, can you tell?"

For a long moment there was silence then Marquise seemed to relax a little. "Close. Coming closer."

Duo rolled his eyes, determining as distances went that was as informative as mud was clear. He resisted the urge to demand more accurate data, opting instead for pulling on his shirt and reaching for his woollen pullover. He wanted to start the fire, but to do so would mark the location of the pantry cave and he could not afford to do that.

"Don't suppose you can tell which direction they are coming from?"

A long elegant finger rose and swivelled to indicate direction before vanishing back under the warmth of the sleeping bag.

"Right." For a moment Duo considered what he was doing and called himself three kinds of idiot.

He had been having a nightmare, so what the hell was to stop Marquise from having a nightmare too? He had probably dreamed this supposed incursion into the area. The man had to be spooked by the near successful murder and he was bound to be paranoid.

"It was not a dream, no I am not paranoid and we do have company."

And now he was omniscient?

Duo stared. Marquise looked back at him.

"So how did you know what I was thinking?"

Marquise shrugged, choosing to contemplate his fingers twisting around a strand of pale hair. "Because it was obvious you would be thinking along those lines. Because it's the middle of the night on a mountain in the middle of nowhere and we are stuck in a chapter of the Twilight Zone."

Duo gaped. He had been thinking of the Twilight Zone and he was sure as hell Marquise would not have knowledge of his hobby in collecting classic books to just throw the name around to spook him.

"Okay. We need to have a talk and you need to come clean with me. You have nanobots running rampant in your body, but that doesn't give a person the ability to read minds."

"There is no time for this, Duo Maxwell."

"Yeah, I've noticed there is never enough time to discuss the really importing things. But we are going to make time, you and I. You are going to come clean with me and tell me what the hell you can do. Everything you can do."

"You would be a dead man if I did."

Duo considered the quiet voice and shrugged. It was, after all, nothing new.

"Hell, I'm already marked; you've warned me to lie low, remember? Now cut the crap and brief me. Where are they, how many are out there and do you know who they are?"

The wind sounded loud in the silence and Duo almost did not dare to breathe. That shadowy presence hovered around Marquise again and briefly he felt it threaten him, but it seemed to pass over him and Duo felt its attention focus out, beyond the pantry, beyond the building.

"Two… three. Three of them-there."

A finger speared decisively at the wall and Duo guessed it to be in the approximate direction of the helicopter. Not overly pleased to have anyone tinkering with their flight out of the mountains, he grunted and pulled on his boots and heavy parka.

"So do you know who?"

"I'm not omniscient."

"But you are at least a partial telepath, right?" He felt a moment of satisfaction to see Marquise start. "Yeah, I thought so. I know an empath so it's okay. Not weirded out, you know. There's more to you than that, but it will have to wait. Here. Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes. It might be me coming through that door."

He tossed a gun to Marquise and after a moment handed him the lantern and a cigarette lighter. He would keep the pantry in darkness; but Marquise would have light if he needed it after the fireworks were over. If the worst should chance to happen.

"I'll need the torch, but I'll dim down the light until I get across the outer room and try to get a look outside. If the wind has not changed direction I'll have to dig my way out before I can take any action, so whoever is out there might not even know a cabin is here."

He would not hold his breath, but you never knew. The amount of snow that had accumulated earlier in the day had suggested he would be digging his way out come morning. The wind sounded as ferocious as ever, if muted. It suggested the cabin might have a substantial insulating layer of snow.

Marquise rested the gun in his lap, settled the lantern at his side and the lighter beside the gun. Maxwell had succeeded in surprising him yet again. They indeed needed to have a long and very candid discussion. If they survived the night they were going to have to make the time to talk.

Duo wished he could don his heavy gloves, but he needed a good grip on his gun and the heavy wool lined gloves simply did not allow for it. Covering the beam of the torch with a light piece of material, he was left with barely sufficient light to see the floor in front of his feet. It was enough to see him safely out the door and he took the time to return the door to its propped position, effectively obscuring the pantry entrance.

He did not need to make it easy to reach Marquise.

/Right then, what do we have here? If this is a false alarm I will pound that man into the middle of next week for getting me out in this weather./

Slipping and sliding his way across the iced over floor of the cabin, Duo made his way to the window, peering out into the night. He grunted, sighing in resignation. The window was buried under snow. Frustrated he made his way to the door, pausing to listen, straining to hear beyond the wind.

/Not a sound. As if I could hear anything above that howl./

He grasped the door and pulled, staring as the portal remained stubbornly closed. Setting himself for a second try he heaved, stumbling backwards as the door handle broke off, dumping him unceremoniously onto his rear.

"Shit!" He hissed, disgusted.

The door had frozen shut and short of making a great deal of noise, he was not about to open it in a hurry. In a way this was good, he decided. Anyone who wanted in had to dig their way to the door and then batter it down, or dig their way to the window and break it to get into the cabin. Either way, he would have plenty of warning of company.

Considering his options he scratched at his head, resisting the urge to stamp his feet in an effort to warm them. He needed to stay focused if the door was now iced shut and the window was covered by snow. He needed to consider another matter of importance which had not been a problem until the cabin had become snow bound. They needed to light the fire at some point and if there was not adequate venting for the smoke, there would be a build up of toxic fumes. They could all too easily gas themselves.

/Wonderful. I'm going to have to dig us out and check the chimney at least is clear.

It was a small sound, a whisper, something that should have been covered by the howling wind, but coincided with a momentary easing of the wind. He turned slowly; aware he dared not stumble or fall now.

The other room. He had forgotten about the other room. It had collapsed and there was both entry and exit to the cabin through what remained. Someone was moving there. He had propped the warped door closed to cut off the draft and was that a flicker of torch light?

Removing the cover from the torch he buried the head of the device against his chest, inching to the side so he would not be an obvious target. Yes, there was the flash of light again. They did, indeed, have company.

Crouching to one side of the fire he spared a glance in the direction of the pantry, pleased the room was pitch black. Whoever was about to enter would see only what was revealed in the light of the torch and might miss the pantry entirely if he could keep them occupied.

The door shuddered under the first attempt to open it and he smirked. It appeared to be frozen shut, but after a moment a heavy blow splintered the wood and beams of light became visible through cracks. A second blow set the door to splintering and then it was open and a torch beam probed the cabin, a dark shape behind it. Duo, not in the direct beam of the torch, stepped further to the side; gun raised and flashed his torch directly into the eyes of the intruder.

His finger tightened on the trigger as the intruder cursed and the torch beam sought him out, but it was too late. He had already gotten a look at the intruders face and instant burning anger drove away the chill.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	33. Chapter 33

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Rescue, Flight Minor to Hair, Wind Word count: 1,748

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Rescue, Flight Minor to Hair, Wind Word count: 1,748

Series: Friends 33/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo +Zechs overall Trowa + Heero + Wu Fei + Duo

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge

Chapter 33

"Oh wait. I know what you're doing here. You came to recover the corpse, didn't you?"

Trowa raised a hand to block the light shining in his eyes, aware of Yuy and Chang moving to either side of him. At the initial flare of the torch, he had felt his heart constrict and he was almost certain if he had not been blocking the door one, or both, of his companions would have sprayed the room with gunfire to take down the torch wielder.

"Guess you found out Maxwell wasn't just blowing hot air, didn't you?"

He had to wonder why Duo was wandering around in the dark, but even as the thought occurred to him Trowa knew the answer. Duo was a survivor and instinctively he would have sensed the proximity of intruders and come to investigate.

"Couldn't you even trust me to come back to town with the guy no one believed needed help in the first place? Did you think I was dead too?"

"So he's dead then?"

Yuy's monotone came from Trowa's right and Duo's torch beam skipped to illuminate him fully before returning to highlight the doorway.

"He would have been if it had been left up to you to act."

Duo, Trowa decided, was not in a good mood.

"So where is he?"

Chang's no nonsense business tone filled the cabin and Trowa was sure he could feel the temperature in the cabin drop a further ten chilling degrees. Maxwell sneered and Trowa noted his braid was disordered from sleep, wisps of hair surrounding his face, but he had a gun drawn and the torch trained on them was steady. He looked as angry as he sounded and ready to shoot.

/Nightmare again./

Trowa had witnessed the aftermath of nightmares often enough, as Duo had stayed with Quatre for lengthy periods of time. For a good thirty minutes, sometimes longer after a particularly bad dream, Duo would be a little less than rational and Trowa knew he would need to tread a careful path until Duo calmed down and grounded himself.

"What's it to you where he is? You didn't give a shit when it actually mattered."

He did not want to be here, in the middle of this confrontation with a strung out Duo Maxwell and Yuy sniping at each other. He only hoped Yuy had the sense not to broach the subject of wanting Duo to fill in for him. This was neither the right time nor the place to raise the matter.

"We have a mission, Maxwell, kindly get your head on straight and allow us to do it." Chang pushed past Trowa and stepped deeper into the cabin.

"Ah yeah, the mighty Preventers have arrived-late as fucking usual-but we won't mention the time, will we? You arrive and everyone else has to shut up and piss off 'cause Preventers will take care of everything." Duo sneered, offering his index finger to further demonstrate his view. "Back off Chang, I don't give a shit about your badge."

They were certainly not handling this meeting well. It was just their luck to have disturbed Duo during a nightmare, when his hackles would be well and truly raised and everything and everyone in the world would be against him. Trowa sighed and held out a hand to lightly touch his partner's chest, forestalling his return snipe.

"I think we need to calm down, people."

Chang's grunt was not promising and Yuy took a wider step to the side.

"We need to rest and tomorrow transfer Marquise to New Port City. The helicopter is a reasonable hike from here, so we will need an early start." Heero motioned about the cabin. "I take it there is another room with better shelter."

"Not for you there isn't and he won't be hiking to your chopper in the morning." Duo snapped. "You know shit about what is going on, but you are on a mission and you intend to complete it, no matter what. That's the way you work, isn't it, Yuy? The mission is everything."

"Duo." Trowa glowered at the torch illuminated young man. "All of you! It's been a hard night for everyone. Can we keep this civil, please?"

"Then get mission man to back off and go back to your bloody chopper and get some sleep. I might feel more sociable after I actually get some quality down time."

That was the problem, Trowa knew, lack of sleep and no one to talk to about the night horrors which disturbed his sleep. Quatre had a way of getting Duo to talk, but Quatre was not here.

"We are not traipsing back through this storm without Marquise." Chang glared and snapped on his own torch, beaming it about the room.

"Well you sure as hell are not taking him anywhere. Get yourselves gone and leave it to me to take him back at a sociable hour."

"Your machine is buried in the snow, as undoubtedly ours will be by the time we return to it. It will take some time to dig them both out and make them flight worthy. We will require daylight for that." Yuy eyed the door against the nearest wall. "That leads outside?"

"Yeah. Its iced shut, but you can dig your way out if you want, or go back through the collapsed room, your choice, but don't bother us any more tonight. The man needs his rest and I'm not in a talkative mood."

"You are seriously screwed up, Maxwell, and you need to see about your problems."

"Fuck you, Chang. I've seen my shrink and I'm designated sane, if somewhat temperamental. She says I'll find my smile again when I find what I want to do in this shit arsed world full of people who think they know what is best for me. I've got patience enough to wait to find out what that is, but no one else seems to have."

"You would find you would fit in well with Pre…"

"Not now, Heero." Trowa groaned. "Shut up all of you!"

He was surprised when they did and could feel their eyes on him. Unfortunately it placed him as the spokesperson for his group and he did not like being the focus of attention. He far preferred to fade into the background and observe. The silence stretched uncomfortably and outside the wind howled, filling the night with its eerie wail and he had no idea what to say to defuse the situation.

"God, you lot make me sick." Duo shook his head, his braid twitching across his shoulder with the movement, tumbling down the side of his arm to swing behind him. "You flew out in darkness, in this wind, the exact same thing you were grousing at me for doing not so long ago. Why didn't you wait until morning when the wind drops and you could bloody see where you were going?"

"We fly when we are instructed." Yuy glowered at him. "Une is not amused by this entire incident and wants the matter dealt with speedily."

"I'll just fucking bet she does." Duo snorted.

Trowa wished fervently for Quatre, or at least his ability to deal with difficult people. For some reason, a nightmare he was sure, Maxwell was spoiling for a fight and after the trials of the mountain hike, both Yuy and Chang were only too willing to give him one. Quatre would have known how to get them to work in accord.

"Duo, is this really the time or place for this? It is late, we are tired-all of us are exhausted-and when the sun comes up we have to dig out the helicopters and see about returning Marquise to New Port City. Let's just settle in for the night and get some rest."

"And who says he is going to New Port City?"

"Commander Une assigned us to locate and return Marquise; with discretion." Chang growled.

"Oh yeah, I bet she stipulated discretion was paramount."

"Yes, Maxwell, with all due discretion. The man is supposed to be dead after all." Heero glowered at Duo.

"Well, Mr. Mission-is-all-Yuy, answer me this. How discrete can one be in broad daylight moving around a dead man?"

/Quatre, where are you when I need you? They will end up killing each other./

Trowa restrained the urge to reach out and smash his fist into both Yuy and Maxwell's faces, deciding he was not quite suicidal at the present time. Chang was no better, taking every opportunity to snipe at Duo, who was not at all averse to sniping back. Not even during the war had they been this aggravated with each other and if Heero wanted a favour from Duo he was going the wrong way about it.

"Enough already!"

He wondered when the last time was he had raised his voice? Life would have been so much easier if they could simply get over themselves and their differences and concentrate on survival.

"Yo, Tro man. Kitty Kat rubbing off on you?"

"Or something, Duo." He ached in every bone and joint and simply wanted to rest. "We are here; we can not trek back to the helicopter tonight. So… shelter?"

He glared at Yuy and flicked a warning glance at Chang, who sniffed and thankfully remained mute.

"Well, you either have to pitch a tent outside or in here, because there sure ain't enough room for anyone else in the pantry."

Duo stomped over to the wall and glowered at the three, silently ordering them to remain where they were. After a moment, assured they would remain clear of his back, he returned his attention to the wall.

"Yo Zechs! Just me, okay?"

Yuy scowled and glowered at Trowa. "You are too soft with him."

"Quatre does not think so." Trowa returned.

Maxwell reached out to one side and in the beam of the torchlight they saw him move back a section of the wall and walk it carefully to one side.

"We got us company for the night, Zechs; a bit snarly but not dangerously rabid. Guess I better get the fire going and make us something warm to eat while they set up camp."

"Pantry?" Chang murmured.

"Yeah, pantry." Duo glanced over his shoulder. "There sure as hell isn't enough room in here for five and I'm not plannin' on given up my warm bed. Pick a spot out here or out there in the snow, I don't particularly care which."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	34. Chapter 34

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Argue, Flight, Shadow, Anger Minor to Wind Word count: 3,051

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Argue, Flight, Shadow, Anger Minor to Wind Word count: 3,051

Series: Friends 34/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries www.gundam-wing-diaries./gw/Karina/gwKarina.htm

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge

Chapter 34

They were moving closer. He could feel Maxwell's life force added to theirs and he knew, at some time in the future, Duo would be seeking answers from him. Answers he was not particularly inclined to provide, but he owed some form of explanation to the man who had braved the storm to save his hide.

Quite frankly, Duo Maxwell astounded him.

Why had the man come after him? They did not know each other. They had been barely acquainted, yet the braided one had come for him.

He was alone of necessity. Safety depended on the distance he maintained from those he held dear. He had forced Noin away; forced her to hate him. Better to have her contempt than to know she would be used and perchance terminated. They would have no compunction in using her to gain what they wanted from him and they would make use of Duo if they suspected he knew anything.

If they suspected Maxwell had come to mean something to him.

He had suggested Maxwell run and bury himself in anonymity for a time. It would be a necessary precaution to protect himself from the repercussions of this mad moment of compassion that had brought him out into the wilds of Sanc. Duo had enough street smarts to evade and elude those who would pursue him.

/A mad moment of compassion. Why did he do it? He has not told me enough to account for his presence. If it had been one of his friends he had come for, that I could understand. He will need to answer my questions, as much as I will need to give him some sort of explanation./

They were coming closer. He could sense their proximity to each other and his fingers curled around the butt of the gun. Confrontation was imminent and he would do what he could should the need arise; but Maxwell was warned and he was no novice. Zechs knew he needed to have faith in old skills one never forgot when one had depended on them so long. Maxwell might not have cause to use such skills in these days of peace, but Zechs knew he would still practise them. Those who had become the elite, the survivors of the worst confrontations during the war, could not help but be aware of the potential for danger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His fingers closed tighter about the gun and he exhaled slowly, calming the spike in anxiety as he had learned to do. He needed to keep control of himself and could not permit the shadow within to run loose. Maxwell, quite obviously, knew their unannounced visitors and he did not sound particularly thrilled with the company.

"Oh wait. I know what you're doing here. You came to recover the corpse, didn't you?"

/Lovely. I'm a corpse, am I? Well, I should be, true enough. I would be, were it not for you, Duo Maxwell. Certain people will not thank you, though I certainly do. If I did not need to return to the fold to determine who it is who wants me terminated, I would take advantage of this 'death'./

There would be at least one of the pilots in the group. They worked for Preventers, though Yuy was on secondment to Relena's security and, if the rumblings he had heard were accurate, Yuy was doing a little more than guarding Relena's person from danger. He was uncertain how he felt about that, but no doubt she would not appreciate him playing the role of protective older brother.

Unfortunately Relena seemed well enough content to forget he existed. Not that he could blame her. He was certainly an embarrassment to the Peacecraft name, not that she used the name.

"Guess you found out Maxwell wasn't just blowing hot air, didn't you?"

That was the voice of an angry young man, one who felt betrayed by those he had considered friends. Zechs could sense Duo's temper as a rising darkness, not too dissimilar to his own shadow, though thankfully not so dangerous as his shadowy persona.

At least not yet, he amended.

"Couldn't you even trust me to come back to town with the guy no one believed needed help in the first place? Did you think I was dead too?"

It appeared they had little to say, though Duo was not giving them much of an opportunity to respond. He could imagine how Duo would look. Sleep mussed, wisps of hair escaping the tight braid, wide eyes tinting toward that fierce passionate violet as he warmed to his subject. Maxwell would look rather fetching in a dangerously sexy way.

/Enough of that./

He did not need random thoughts of sex making an appearance to further complicate the situation. Maxwell deserved better than to become a part of a sexual fantasy to assuage physical needs too long denied. If he lost control it would culminate in the bursting of a dam held rigidly behind stressed barriers for too long.

"So he's dead then?"

"He would have been if it had been left up to you to act."

/Yuy./

So it was Preventers who had come for him, not those Others who professed to control him. Despite it being Preventers who reached him first, they would have taken precautions to protect their interests. He could not afford to relax, nothing had changed.

Yuy's presence was a surprise however. The former pilot of Wing Zero should have been attending to his sister's security, not traipsing around the mountains in the middle of the night.

"So where is he?"

That was one voice he was not pleased to hear. Chang Wu Fei and he did not sound in a particularly good mood. Typically Chang, however, no nonsense, always direct to the point and no time for the social niceties. Treize had thought him wonderfully entertaining.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, counting slowly to five, taking the count to ten, forcing the surge in the shadows within him to remain within his control. He could not afford to lose control now. He needed to get over his pet dislike for the man. Chang had been a child, for all he thought himself to be worldly and adult. He had been, like the others, too young to realize he was being used.

They had all been used by those older and supposedly wiser.

"…didn't give a shit when it actually mattered."

"We have a mission, Maxwell, kindly get your head on straight and allow us to do it."

Chang had obviously not mellowed in the intervening years. Perhaps he now understood how he had been used and it had served to sour his disposition further. Or perhaps he was simply tired. What ever the reason, Chang Wu Fei was sure to rub Duo the wrong way and spark off a confrontation.

"Ah yeah, the mighty Preventers have arrived-late as fucking usual-but we won't mention the time, will we? You arrive and everyone else has to shut up and piss off 'cause Preventers will take care of everything. Back off Chang, I don't give a shit about your badge."

As he had feared, Duo's temper was flaring and a full fledged confrontation was developing. It was to be expected as he was sure Duo had been feeling cut off from those who had fought beside him during the war. Isolated, unable to find stable footing and seeing them progress, content with what they had chosen to do, digging his heels in when they determined such work would suit him. Zechs had witnessed this type of reaction before, during his days in the military. If someone did not intervene Duo Maxwell might well close himself off from what was possibly the only peer support group he had.

/Don't do it. Don't say it. Bite your tongue, just don't push them aside. It will be the worst thing you can do to push them away./

"I think we need to calm down, people."

/Ah, someone who can see the danger of things getting out of hand. It's not Winner, I've heard his voice often enough. Barton? Did Une assign the Gundam pilots to round me up? It would make sense, they would know how to handle the dark side of me and I might appreciate a bullet in the brain. The bloody nanobots might not be able to save me from that./

"We need to rest and tomorrow transfer Marquise to New Port City. The helicopter is a reasonable hike from here, so we will need an early start. I take it there is another room with better shelter."

That might be Yuy's version of a tactful side step, but he doubted Maxwell would respond too kindly to the tone. He was more than a little disturbed by the undertones running through the group. He had thought the Gundam Pilots were closer.

"Not for you there isn't and he won't be hiking to your chopper in the morning. You know shit about what is going on, but you are on a mission and you intend to complete it, no matter what. That's the way you work, isn't it, Yuy? The mission is everything."

It was not only Yuy who was mission oriented. Amidst those trained at so high a level the need to complete a mission was almost compulsive. There were many more besides Heero Yuy who had difficulty breaking that extreme level of conditioning. At one time he had been almost as bad, though Treize had kept his hand on the young Zechs Marquise and ensured he at least was taught how to switch off from that dark place he had been trained to inhabit.

For the good of the peace. It was always for the good of the peace that dark things were perpetrated.

/Fuck the peace. What has it done for me?/

Treize would not have been amused with him and he knew it was the shadow stirring, insinuating darker thoughts, plucking at the harp strings of his discontent with his position.

/Always for the peace of others. I am heartily tired of working for others./

He could be a selfish bastard when he was descending into darkness and he needed to stop that plunge now, before it was too late.

"… to your bloody chopper and get some sleep. I might feel more sociable after I actually get some quality down time."

/More sociable, Duo? Only if you do not dream again./

"We are not traipsing back through this storm without Marquise."

Zechs felt his upper lip curl. Chang could not possibly keep his mouth shut and allow other people with cooler heads to deal with Maxwell. What was it about the irate youth which had so attracted Treize? The man had taken delight in goading the Gundam pilot and in duelling with him. All of the pilots had fascinated Treize, but none more so than Chang Wu Fei.

Neither Zechs Marquise nor Milliardo Peacecraft had liked that.

/No, I don't think I will allow myself to go down that road. Not now. Not here./

The Shadow was hovering too near to release for him to dare to examine his feelings of jealousy for Chang. Treize Khushrenada had known how to play his people and Zechs was not willing to raise old wounds. Treize had played with his emotions enough when alive and he refused to give a truly dead man that power over him.

"… some time to dig them both out and make them flight worthy. We will require daylight for that. That leads outside?"

He pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing gently against the pounding pulse beat. His shadow needed to be contained but their anger was beating at him. The emotions of others always had an effect on him and the tensions in the other room were not helping him subjugate the dangerous urge.

He could, if he needed to, gain his feet. If he let loose the anger and fed it to the shadowy persona he could, even in his weakened condition, give them a run for their money. They would not be expecting to face what he could become.

Une would not have warned them. He was uncertain exactly how much she knew, but she would know he had performed missions deemed too dangerous even for her pet pilots. She would know enough to suspect, though not enough to earn her death warrant. Not unless she had been digging where she had no cause to be. They would inform her only of what They required her to know. She in turn would tell her operatives only what she deemed necessary to get the job done.

Need to know. It was the military's excuse for keeping secrets.

No, it was unlikely these young men would suspect what he could do. They might think they knew what he was capable of, but they would be underestimating him. The days of the war were far behind them and his handlers had taught him new tricks. He needed to keep them safe in their ignorance.

"… says I'll find my smile again when I find what I want to do in this shit arsed world full of people who think they know what is best for me. I've got patience enough to wait to find out what that is, but no one else seems to have."

Patience was a luxury, one he was pleased Maxwell could entertain. He needed time and was willing to take it to determine his future. Time to find where one belonged was a rare luxury and if they supported their friend they might well find they were not as content with their choices as they professed to be. Perhaps that was one of the problems they needed to deal with.

Maxwell had not jumped into Preventers and had steered clear of Winner's security department as well. From what he had learned Duo had tried his hand at one or two things with no real interest in them. It was, of course, a mistake, but one he had learned from and determined not to repeat.

Maxwell had restless feet and a bad case of the fidgets. Post war stress would account for some of it, but there would be other factors at work and he had said he was seeing psychologists. Some people found their way more easily than others and Zechs wished Duo Maxwell luck in finding his way out of the sinkhole his life had become.

"… flew out in darkness in this wind, the exact same thing you were grousing at me for doing not so long ago. Why didn't you wait until morning when the wind drops and you could bloody see where you were going?"

"We fly when we are instructed. Une is not amused by this entire incident and wants the matter dealt with speedily."

"I'll just fucking bet she does."

Yuy was not having much success dealing with his erstwhile rescuer, Zechs mused. Everything he said, though he likely did not intend for it to happen, seemed to set Duo off; perhaps it was Yuy's tone of voice? Duo's last retort dripped sarcasm and Zechs was fairly sure the blue eyes would have been close to turning fully violet.

"Duo, is this really the time or place for this? It is late, we are tired-all of us are exhausted-and when the sun comes up we have to dig out the helicopters and see about returning Marquise to New Port City. Let's just settle in for the night and get some rest."

New Port City? Barton's comment stilled the rising shadow and he held his breath, eyes widening. Within the Shadow trembled and he stared into the darkness of the pantry, wishing his eyes could see beyond the darkness, unwilling to loose the shadow so that he could, indeed, move through it.

/They have been instructed to take me to New Port City? What…? That would be the last place the Organization would want me. I expected a secured facility, the Preventer air terminal perhaps, and a discrete transferred to one of the Organization's transports./

"And who says he is going to New Port City?"

"Commander Une assigned us to locate and return Marquise; with discretion."

"Oh yeah, I bet she stipulated discretion was paramount."

/Don't, Duo! Don't rouse their suspicions. Don't make them look at it more closely. The fewer people who suspect anything is wrong the better./

"Yes, Maxwell, with all due discretion. The man is supposed to be dead after all."

"Well, Mr. Mission-is-all-Yuy, answer me this. How discrete can one be in broad daylight moving around a dead man?"

/Let it go, Duo. / He was suddenly bone aching tired. /It will be easier for me to disappear if they are not suspicious./

"Enough already!"

"Yo, Tro man. Kitty Kat rubbing off on you?"

"Or something, Duo. We are here; we can not trek back to the helicopter tonight. So… shelter?"

Pursuit of practical purposes was safe. Relaxing slowly back against the backpacks Zechs rested the gun his fingers had been compulsively tightening around, in his lap. He was propped up against the packs, shivering in the cold but unwilling to lie down and leave his fate to others. Duo would no doubt not appreciate him shooting his friends, though he sounded distinctly tetchy. If he took his hand away from the source of the temptation, it might sooth the shadow to fully retreat and give him some rest.

"… outside or in here, because there sure ain't enough room for anyone else in the pantry."

No, there was barely sufficient room for he and Duo, with the stock pile of timber dragged in to warm them. He supposed they would choose to pitch a tent in the icy room and he wished them luck in their chilly shelter. Conditions would be improving outside, but it would be hours yet before the storm let up. The wind was easing and the snow fall should be too, but it would be far more pleasant within solid walls than it would be sheltering from the wind in a tent.

"Yo Zechs! Just me, okay?"

/Yes, Duo, just you is okay. I don't think the Shadow will shoot you./

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	35. Chapter 35

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Cobweb, Rescue Word count: 2,415

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Cobweb, Rescue Word count: 2,415

Series: Friends 35/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge Chang Wu Fei and Duo Maxwell

Chapter 35

He watched as Duo shuffled the door to one side revealing a cavernous darkness beyond. He directed the beam of the torch past Maxwell's shoulder and into the gap, revealing little beyond the suggestion of a few indistinct shapes. He could see no sign of Marquise and wondered where the man was and what condition he must be in. Maxwell had suggested he had been close to death on his arrival and that boded ill for moving him to the helicopter.

/We will require a stretcher, I suppose, and that is one thing we did not bring with us, though Maxwell's helicopter might contain one. I am not enamoured of the notion of carrying a man of his size down the mountain to our craft. If there is no other way, then there is no help for it./

Movement to one side attracted his attention in time to watch Yuy swing his backpack to the icy floor and Barton making a survey of the immediate area, no doubt determining where it would be best to pitch his tent. His partners gave every appearance of having accepted Maxwell's decision there would be insufficient room in his shelter for them, but Wu Fei was not about to take the matter at face value.

Maxwell might well dance around Marquise and cater to his needs, but Chang Wu Fei danced around no one.

Duo had vanished into the darkness of what he claimed to be a pantry and Wu Fei strode to the door, determined to discover the lay of the land and check out the extent of the injuries they would need to deal with. He needed to be fully briefed on the health of their target and what might be required for them to return Marquise safely to New Port City.

"Chang, Barton and Yuy are here." Duo's voice; low toned and clear, despite the wailing of the wind. "They will have to pitch tents outside, or in the cabin for the remainder of the night."

The beam of his torch revealed Maxwell crouching beside a makeshift hearth and piling what appeared to be the dried remnants of the collapsed room within it, preparatory to lighting a fire.

"You want to get that bloody light out of my eyes?"

He dipped the torch obediently and directed it about the room, taking note of the remnants of shelves about the rock walls, the dome of the tent deeper in the small room and the great pile of debris stockpiled for drying and use. With the door replaced over the gap to keep out the cold draft Wu Fei decided it was an ideal and rather snug shelter from the elements. Directing the torch at the tent he took a moment to study the man leaning against what looked to be Maxwell's backpack.

The wealth of pale hair was unmistakable and the arctic glare of those blue eyes suggested the man was as alive and mean as ever. He had the sleeping bag drawn up to his shoulders and by his visible right hand lay a snub nosed revolver. Chang scowled at that, flicking his gaze toward Maxwell who was watching him as a wisp of smoke began to curl around the wood at his feet.

"I'm sure Zechs likes being blinded by a torch about as much as I do. What's your problem, Chang?"

Duo's torch was directed at him, a little to one side so as not to shine directly into his eyes. It was a courtesy Wu Fei emulated, dipping the torch a little. Marquise did not move, not so much as blinking to acknowledge his action. Wu Fei could almost feel cold hands hovering close, waiting to grasp his throat and throttle the life out of him. On the few occasions they had met, and those meetings had been few after Dekim Barton's play for power, he received the distinct impression Marquise disliked him.

"Does he require further medical attention?"

"Zechs is fine for the night, just go get your bed ready and leave him be."

Duo blew on the beginnings of a flame, coaxing it gently to life. He kept the torch in one hand as he piled debris from the larger pile beside him; fuel once he had a decent flame going.

"What is the extent of his injuries?"

"We can talk about this later," Duo scowled and poked irritably at the growing flame. "Plenty of time to discuss matters."

"We will need to know his condition before we move him in the morning. There is no need to make the move any more difficult than it has to be."

Duo dropped the torch beside him and slapped his hands against his thighs. "Look. It's late, it's bloody cold and you've woken us up from a sound sleep, so don't expect us to be exactly sociable." He stood slowly. "No one is going anywhere until the chopper is dug out and that is going to take the better part of the morning. If you bug off and get your camp ready I can get this fire going. Go find out what supplies you have available, we will be more comfortable for having something hot in our bellies."

"I need to know what happened and what condition he is in."

He expected Marquise to snap at him, the man was never sociable, not that they had had occasion to meet often. He could recall meeting Marquise no more than twice since the war and on both occasions it was obvious Marquise held a low opinion of him. No doubt that opinion was based on his actions during the war, but Marquise was the big bad villain of the war. It was Marquise who had been trying to blow up the planet, not he. He had been a hero during the war and he had only been a bit player for Barton's disastrous attempt at world conquest, not the major villain of the show.

His friends had forgiven him his place in that altercation, not that he particularly believed he was wrong or required anyone's forgiveness.

If anyone should be ashamed of their actions it was Marquise, not Chang Wu Fei.

"We can talk after we set camp." Duo growled.

"Maxwell…"

"That's my name! Don't wear it out."

Duo took a threatening step forward; hands clenched into fists at his side. He looked dangerous and ready to explode, blue eyes glimmering violet in the poor lighting. His braid was a mess, bits of hair escaping the weave and cobwebs clung to the chestnut mass. There were marks of fatigue under his eyes, dark circles which spoke of lack of sleep. The jovial annoying jester that was Maxwell's usual persona was decidedly lacking in this hard eyed, grim faced individual.

"I need to ascertain if he requires medical attention through the night. We could take it in shifts to spell you to enable you to get additional sleep."

Duo rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. "Nah. Not necessary, Chang. He's okay to sleep the night through and I'll be in the tent with him. If he does wake up I'll know it and deal with whatever the problem might be."

"It is not necessary for you to take the burden on yourself. We are here now and he is our problem."

Something flashed in those hard eyes, Duo's stubborn streak seemed to be rising to greater heights than normal and from the tent there was still no hint of movement.

"So what makes him your problem?"

"Une. We are assigned to recover and return him, this is the charge placed upon us. There is no need for you to put yourself out when it is our mission."

"Well, it isn't a corpse you're recovering. He's alive and kicking and he might be a little on the damaged side, but I bet he can still kick arse if he needs to. I don't see Une here and I'm not a Preventer, so I don't have to take her orders to scratch my arse if it itches. I'm tired, more than a shade paranoid and more aware of the conspiracy going on here than you are. Just let us all get settled in and fed. We all need sleep, not just me. I'm not the one who was dumb enough to march through a blizzard after all. We can talk about it in the morning."

"Conspiracy?" Chang murmured, leaning forward slightly.

Maxwell might know something of what they suspected and any information would add to the picture they were sketching in. They suspected much but actually knew little. Maxwell had been sequestered up here for a couple of days with Marquise and he might well have gained some information from the man in that time.

"What do you know of a conspiracy?"

He was more than concerned when Maxwell directed a look at the tent and the watching man. Something was exchanged between them, something profound and Wu Fei did not like the implications.

"Time enough to chew over the fat later, Chang." He looked his exhaustion suddenly, but his back straightened and his stance stiffened. "All I want now is to get something to eat, warm up and rest. Look, I'll tell you what. You go get your tent ready and I'll get the fire going properly, then I'll find my camera. I've got the crime scene photo's on a disk and you can play cops and robbers on it to your hearts content while I sleep."

He was making little sense and Wu Fei noted Marquise had a hand to his mouth and he suspected the man of hiding a smirk at their expense. With a huff, and purely to deny the blonde his amusement, Wu Fei grunted and stomped out of the pantry. He would have his answers and he did not care whose teeth he needed to pull to get them.

Duo stretched slowly, straining against sore muscles in an attempt to loosen up a little before he turned to the tent and the man he knew was watching him.

"You want to pass out the lantern? We need some decent light in here to work by."

Bending down he reached a hand into the tent and after a moment Marquise turned to grasp the lantern by the handle, reaching to offer it to him. He knew what was coming, the man had told him often enough through the day about the dangers of interacting with him. It stood to reason he would offer a warning about their recently arrived company.

"Duo, for their own safety, the less they know the better."

His voice was a raspy purr of sound against the back drop of howling wind and the faint sounds coming from the cabin.

"I'm not about to tell them what you have told me. I know when to give little to gain a lot, so can you dig around in my pack and find the camera? I want to make a copy of the photo's I took. They might help shed some light on who did this and why. I pretty much snapped a shot of everything I thought might even remotely hold some significance to an investigator. There are some spare discs in the pack too, so we can make a few copies. If anything should happen to the camera then we have some back up."

"Any evidence will be sure to be collected and promptly destroyed. Whoever arranged for this will want to cover their tracks."

"They can't do anything about it if they don't know we have a copy of the evidence," Duo returned. "When you study it you might be able to see something I don't recognize as being important. It's worth a try and who knows, maybe it will be enough to point the finger at your assailant."

"Anything is possible. Duo, you should separate yourself from this as quickly as possible. The wind will have dropped substantially by morning and I suggest you dig out the chopper and go to ground. Keep a low profile; you will be safer that way."

Duo considered Marquise for a long moment as he set the lantern down beside the fire. "We have to survive the night before any of us can leave."

"They are your friends, Duo. Don't make the mistake of loosing them because, for a short time, you find it difficult to understand each other. Your difficulties with them will pass by the wayside before you understand how everything sorted itself out. Don't turn your back to them; let them in, even if they don't seem to understand. You can never have enough friends."

He fed the weak flame some small pieces of debris and sighed. He had known Marquise would come out with something like that. The man seemed to have an uncanny sense for knowing what to say to make him uncomfortable.

"That's something you should remember, Zechs Marquise. Friends stick by each other and help when times are bad. I don't save a body's arse and then abandon him to chance. You've got problems and since I saved your butt I think I have a vested interest in the conspiracy surrounding you. Now that's my choice, not yours. I'm not giving you the right to decide about it, okay? You'll just have to get used to my interest."

0000000000000000

Wu Fei scowled at the ice layering the floor of the cabin. There were photographs of the crime scene and while he could not expect Maxwell to have taken the pictures as well as a trained investigator would have, the photographs might be clear enough to offer significant information. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Maxwell was well ahead of them in determining the details of what had brought Marquise out here.

If Marquise was indeed Black Ops then he would have revealed nothing, but sometimes what one did not say was more informative than what one did say. Preventers were trained to listen to what was not spoken aloud and might assist to solve the case.

They did not need Maxwell mixed up in this business if he refused to join Preventers. He was a civilian and would need to be kept on the sidelines. It was a necessity of which he undoubtedly would not approve. Perhaps this would be the nudge the man needed to determine where his life was going.

End

Karina Robertson 2007


	36. Chapter 36

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Information, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Hair, Shadows Word count: 2,867

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Anger, Information, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Hair, Shadows Word count: 2,867

Series: Friends 36/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge Duo, Zechs and Trowa

Chapter 36

Chang, he noted, could not leave well enough alone and had to front Duo.

Trowa snorted softly, hammering a pin into the ice coating the floor, surprised at how deep the layer was. He could only hope the ice would not crack and the pin would hold firm, not that there was more than a chill breeze in the room to threaten the tents. Duo had found the best shelter available and if he said there was not sufficient room for them all Trowa was willing to believe him.

Duo, after all, did not lie.

Initially he had not understood Duo's reluctance to carve a place for himself in society, but following a series of long discussions, Quatre had convinced him Duo was simply not ready to settle down. Their friend was at loose ends and they needed patience and to trust him. Duo, not having expected to survive the war, was unable to settle down to any one career until he was at peace with himself. It would improve, Quatre had assured him. Duo merely needed time to find himself and Trowa was well aware that Quatre was keeping an observant eye on their friend and was prepared to help him when he might require assistance.

It was nice to have friends.

Over time they could prove to be annoying, distracting, pig headed and generally could be relied on when needed. Trowa did not like the rift developing in their group; it challenged the comfortable world he had settled himself into and he was afraid of losing a vital part of it.

Chang and Yuy were content with their positions in Preventers. Their work was comfortable for them in that it was enough like their past to give them a sense of familiarity while working to maintain the peace. Unfortunately, not having to face the prospect of becoming civilians anytime in the near future gave them time to pick at Duo, who was not prepared to maintain a quasi militaristic existence.

Duo was not the only one in that category, but neither Chang nor Yuy had a problem accepting Quatre running Winner Enterprises. In fact he was certain neither of them had considered Quatre might entertain notions other than running the multi level corporation.

Winner Enterprises had its very flexible tendrils insinuated throughout the ESUN, and as its CEO Quatre was deeply committed to working toward peace and maintaining and improving the living standards of the citizens of the ESUN. But Quatre was unhappy with his lot as CEO. Trowa was sure more than eyebrows would be raised if Quatre claimed he wanted to join Preventers in an official capacity, not that he did.

He himself had chosen to join Preventers, but not for the long term. When he had enlisted he had needed something familiar while he waited to see how his relationship with Quatre developed following the stresses and strains of the war. He had watched as Quatre struggled to settle into his role as CEO of Winner Enterprises, offering what support he could and feeling totally inadequate all the while.

He was not intending to become a career Preventer, something he was certain Chang Wu Fei would become. Heero, he suspected, could also choose to have a professional career in the organization. He was comfortable with the lifestyle but most likely Heero's fate would depend on Relena Darlian. Trowa was willing to bet it would not be an easy courtship.

The girl had so many issues to deal with, personal and public that she could not enjoy a comfortable private life. She might as well live in a glass house for all the privacy she enjoyed. Such a life certainly would not suit Trowa in the long term and he could only wonder if Heero was up to dealing with it.

He had his doubts as they, he and Heero, were not so dissimilar in many respects and he could not, in all honesty, see Relena dropping her career, or even winding it back appreciably. It would be interesting to see how the courtship developed and if Heero could tolerate over the long term the media attention focused on them.

Heero and Relena were not as natural a couple as he and Quatre. He and his blonde partner had clicked and something unique and wonderfully fulfilling had grown between them. He could do nothing about Quatre being a public figure but not being a politician Quatre could garner some privacy.

The Magunacs were wonderfully useful for security. Security at the Winner properties was better than that found at the palaces and hotels Relena frequented, and he and Quatre enjoyed more privacy than Relena. It also helped it was known publically that he and Quatre were something more than friends. Nor did it exactly hurt when you owned controlling shares in the majority of media services. You gained amazing control over how much detail of your private life became public knowledge.

No, he could not see himself remaining a Preventer for the rest of his life. Preventers had allowed him to be himself while he waited for Quatre to settle and for their relationship to develop. There would be more for him than being a glorified policeman and he was feeling confident enough in his abilities, and in his relationship, to begin thinking of a career change.

His stint in the circus had been fun, but he wanted something more than that wandering lifestyle could give him. What was more likely was that he would give in to Quatre's pleas for him to work in the security department of Winner Enterprises. His blonde lover had been after him to take up employment there for some time and now Trowa was more secure in himself and ready to give the position some serious thought.

He would not be accepting a handout if he chose to accept the position. His confidence in his own independence had flourished during his term as a Preventer and he knew the value of his skills. No, Quatre was not offering a handout but an honest job in which he succeeded, or failed, on his own merit. Quatre knew him well enough to know he would not accept charity, even from him.

Charity did not belong in their relationship.

But it was a decision he did not need to make at this time. What he should be devoting his attention to was preparing for the night and resting for the new day.

It was sure to be exhausting hiking back to their helicopter. The snow would be deeper, but hopefully the wind would be appreciably lower, making it easier to slog their way through the drifts. While they had given it no consideration before, and they should have, they might have a problem with Marquise.

Exactly what injuries the man carried was yet to be determined by anyone in his group. Trowa found himself hoping the man could at least walk under his own power, even if at a reduced speed. He was a hulking big man to have to lug around on a stretcher, and Trowa was not particularly keen on the idea. He was the tallest of the former Gundam Pilots but Marquise was taller still and heavier.

Looking around he noted Chang had fallen to erecting his own tent and was thankfully giving his bad temper a rest from vocal expression. Briefly Trowa considered their situation, glancing about the main room of the cabin.

It was not an overly large room and they were in the process of pitching three two man tents. He was well aware it would make more sense to erect only two tents but none of them had suggested it. Chang was obviously in a pissy mood and not willing to share his tent space and Heero, Trowa suspected, was not exactly comfortable with the idea of sharing with a confirmed homosexual. Heero had never said anything about Trowa and Quatre's relationship, but knowing two of your friends were homosexual and sleeping in the same tent as one of them could be construed to be two different things.

Chang would make the more sensible tent mate for Heero, but looking at Wu Fei Trowa decided it was better for everyone concerned if they had their own tents. Chang looked more than merely annoyed; real temper was sparking fire in his dark eyes.

Chang Wu Fei was a fine looking man, but there was no way Trowa would have ever considered him as a lover. He was too uptight for Trowa's tastes; too dark in nature as well. He could not have long tolerated Chang's justice rants and volatile temperament, but aside from these reasons he suspected Sally was considered to be something more than a friend by the temperamental agent.

Heero had his share of good looks too, but that self destructing stoicism was not something Trowa felt himself capable of dealing with in the long term. Not as something more than a friend at least. Besides, he knew Heero was heterosexual and Trowa's tastes ran towards blondes who could smile, not brunettes who could generate twenty translations from a single grunt.

Duo was another matter.

He was much easier to live with than either Chang or Yuy had proven to be over the years. Duo lived with Quatre and Trowa on and off as he learned to adapt and live in a world vastly changed from the one he had known. Duo would, Trowa knew, find himself given time. He was undergoing therapy and his biggest problem was the nightmares, which seemed to affect him far worse than they had Quatre, who had also experienced distressing nightmares of the war.

Trowa was no different than any of them; he was just taking a little longer to come to terms with the changes in his circumstances. He suspected in the long term it would be Duo who was more settled and accepting of the peaceful civilian life than any in their group by taking more time now to find himself. There were some days Trowa wondered if Heero and Wu Fei had really dealt with the war and what it had done to them, but the Preventer shrinks were good and there had been some intensive therapy before Une signed them all up. He knew from experience how intense those sessions could be.

Duo was having his own therapy sessions and Quatre was assisting and monitoring him, careful not to encroach too much into what Duo had to see as a personal matter. The very last thing Quatre wanted was to set Duo to running, but he was there with moral support whenever Duo needed it. They had made progress; Trowa was not blind to the advances they had made, and he hoped Duo was on the right road.

This latest turn of events worried Trowa. What was it that had set Duo off this time, bringing him out into the middle of nowhere to find Marquise when no one knew for certain he was missing? There was still so much about Duo he did not understand.

Stepping back he considered the tent and the location he had chosen without really giving it any thought. He had set his tent closest to the door through which there was now light blazing. The flickering quality of the light suggested a good sized fire was burning in the room beyond, and after rolling out a sleeping bag and setting up a gas lamp for later use, Trowa lightly rapped his knuckles on the wall beside the doorway.

He heard Chang's snort and muttered comment; a derogatory snarl on his manners, but Trowa chose to ignore him. He had found it payed to ignore Chang when he was in one of these moods, the shunning generally served to aggravate the man more than snapping back at him and telling him to get a life would.

In the interests of self preservation Chang's uncertain temper took a back seat. He had learned a long time ago it did not do to sneak up on Duo, and he was uncertain of Marquise's temper and reactions when surprised. It was only sensible, in his view, to be cautious when approaching warriors.

That was what they were.

Warriors, not soldiers.

They had passed beyond the rank and file a long time ago, and certain reactions and reflexes could not simply be unlearned. It paid to be wary of others with skills equal to his own and over time Quatre had taught him the benefits of diplomacy. He would give Duo and Marquise their due by recognizing their past and approaching them with all due caution.

"Yo' Tro."

A good beginning. Duo was relaxed by the fire, sitting slightly to one side of the tent opening and feeding small bits of debris into the flames. He looked relaxed; his braid slung over one shoulder, messy from sleep, but there was a quietness to him Trowa was very glad to see. It appeared he had calmed down from whatever words had been exchanged with Chang over their foray into the mountains at night.

He took the greeting to be permission for him to enter and settled on the opposite side of the fire from Duo. A lamp brightened the room and by its light he realized the space was a natural fissure in the rock, cut wider and squared somewhat to form a small room.

"You have a secure shelter here," he murmured. "Quatre says hello."

"I was lucky to have someone who knows the lie of the land with me," Duo returned. "Zechs told me the pantry would be here, and it made a whole lot more sense to shelter here than out there."

"Might I enquire as to your condition, Mr. Marquise?"

The interior of the tent was shadowed as Duo had the lantern on the far side of him, but Trowa could make out the pale shimmer of the man's trade mark hair. Quatre's admonition that politeness would always garner results prompted his means of address. He knew a great deal about the man from the war but nothing of him after the war, and he was not prepared to consider the man harmless. Marquise had been an officer and a gentleman, however, and Trowa was not inclined to think that much had changed.

"Well enough considering the circumstances, Mr. Barton."

The deep voice was low and husky. That Trowa could detect he sounded pain free, if wary, which was to be expected given the circumstances of their meeting. This man had proven himself not to be a fool in the past and there was a dark mystery surrounding his whereabouts since the war ended. Noin had been in a foul mood on reappearing at Preventers and her temper had not appreciably improved in the last few months. What ever had parted them had been serious and Trowa was not going to take chances by underestimating him.

"Have you got the camera there, Zechs?"

Duo turned, poking his head into the shadowed interior of the tent and after a moment he reappeared with a video camera in hand.

"I took some footage, video and stills, when I found him. You will want it I suppose,"

"That would be good, thank you."

He needed to garner as much information as he could. Quatre, much as he wished otherwise, was almost certainly going to entangle himself in this business. They were all aware there was something particularly dark and sinister involved, and since Duo had involved himself, Quatre would not leave it alone. He suspected whatever evidence they gathered and submitted to Lady Une would vanish as quickly and thoroughly as smoke on the wind. He doubted Une would give them instructions to investigate the murderous attempt on Marquise; it was more likely she would instruct them to forget the mission entirely.

"If you do not mind, I would like to make a copy of this." He took the unit from Duo and flipped open the screen, settling down to check out what it was Duo had walked into.

Duo was silent, watching, occasionally feeding the fire. Silence from the tent gave him no clue as to what Marquise was doing; resting, he suspected. He sucked in a sharp breath when the video revealed the man's condition realizing this was not simply an attempt to murder a man. Somewhere out there was a very sick individual and Trowa suspected the abductor would not let the matter rest when he learned he had failed.

"Hey, Trowa?"

Looking up from the tiny screen Trowa could not resist glancing into the tent, but other than the fall of silver hair suggested in the darkness, he could see nothing. Duo was watching him, blue eyes shimmering violet in the firelight and for an instant he could almost imagine a shadow shape hovering behind Duo, a deeper shadow amidst the flickering shadows cast by the fire.

"When you get back to Sanc..."

"Yes?"

Duo sighed and his fingers unerringly found and fluffed that tuft of hair at the tip of his braid. "Watch your back when you get back to Sanc, okay? Things aren't always what they seem."

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2008


	37. Chapter 37

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows Minor to Wind, Anger Word count: 1,991

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows Minor to Wind, Anger Word count: 1,991

Series: Friends 37/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries www.gundam-wing-diaries./gw/Karina/gwKarina.htm

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge Quatre, Duo and Zechs

Chapter 37

It was a problem, not knowing exactly how much he could say without alarming the man he knew was alert and watchful to the happenings beyond his tent.

Zechs would be at his most dangerous, trapped as he was with a weakened body and unknown allies blocking any escape he might have attempted. They were allies, not enemies, but what did Zechs Marquise really know of the three who had arrived in the waning hours of the blizzard? For that matter, what did Zechs know about the man who had saved his life, Duo mused?

They had never really met before this enforced occupation of the cabin. Duo, to be honest, had not really cared to know the man beneath the legend that was Milliardo Peacecraft. Aside from a brief radio contact during the battle against the Barton factionists, there had been a brief head nod after the battle and Marquise had vanished thereafter. No, he did not know Marquise at all, either as Peacecraft or Marquise and Duo was honest with himself; he was still trying to come up with a satisfactory answer to the question of why he was here.

Why was he in this desolate wind swept cabin in the middle of the Sanc mountain ranges, chasing a man he did not even know?

/I'm such a dumb bastard./

A by product of living on the streets was that he could not claim himself to have ever been a trusting soul. When you had nothing you jealously guarded what little you could claim, and unless you were invited you did not interfere with anything, or anyone, that did not belong to you. On the streets, especially in the gangs of L2, you learned to keep your hands to yourself, your valued possessions close or hidden safely away, and your friends at a safe distance.

Solo was an exception to the rule, but the Duo of then had been too young; the Duo of now had a better understanding of life's truths. He considered himself uncommonly blessed to have had more than one.

Why had he come out here? He felt that he had somehow placed a claim on the man; a claim he did not begin to understand… but might have something to do with what was best not spoken. Like Quatre.

Quatre was someone he could not keep at a safe distance. Of all the Gundam pilots Quatre was the closest to him, as close perhaps as Solo had permitted himself to get with one of his kids. There had always been a guarded distance in his life; a safe zone to protect him from what he knew must come. Loss. Death. Betrayal for something as simple and important as a crust of bread.

Quatre knew where that fine line was and not to step over it. He was just eerie that way. Trowa was not as close to Duo as he was to his lover, which was entirely to be expected, but he seemed to understand well enough how Duo needed space. In fact, Duo was astonished Trowa accepted his constantly invading the lovers space.

It would be Quatre's doing, of course. Quatre always knew just what to say, when to say it and how to say it without suffering retribution from the darkness that lurked; from the Shinigami within Duo. Quatre, the pacifist business man, had his own Shinigami and could see it well enough in others. He had the unnerving ability he termed his 'Space Heart' and Duo knew from past experience that Space Heart was real, not imagined. It was as real as Duo's own 'feelings' were real.

Quatre was better able to deal with his version of that extra sense and Duo hoped, one day, to understand his own vague feelings, with Quatre's aid.

Now there was Zechs, or Milliardo, though he seemed not to favour that name. Zechs was different too and Duo recognized that Zechs understood what was different about himself, but Duo also understood that, unlike Quatre, Zechs was far from comfortable with others knowing he was not normal. It was, in fact, dangerous for others to know the Peacecraft Prince was what Quatre insisted on calling 'Gifted'.

/How much could I tell Trowa? How much is safe? Zechs didn't so much as grunt when I warned Tro to watch his back. Really, what can I say? It must be pretty obvious to all of them that something is wrong about this whole deal./

None of them were dumb. They were all intelligent, trained to be observant and competent at their work. Yuy and Chang had brains even if they were both constantly anal about being 'normal' and 'fitting in' and being a 'productive member of society'.

What he wanted to do was crawl into the tent, zip up the flap and nestle down in that warm sleeping bag. If he did that he could pull that big blonde teddy bear, who made a great hot water bottle, down with him and, for a time at least, Duo could forget the outside world existed. The down side of course was the dreams. After so many disruptions to his night he was sure to dream. His thoughts of conspiracies were disturbing enough to unsettle him at a subconscious level and guarantee a return to nightmare.

/I might not be lucky enough to be woken out of it so early into the dream. That reminds me; the dream. It wasn't the same. There was something different about it. And Zechs… he was in it. I know he was there, not a part of the horror, but he was there, in it. I can't front him with witnesses to overhear us. They would only get confused and angry, and it would degenerate into a slanging match as it has so many times before when they haven't understood their input was not only not welcome, but not needed. Now that they have shown up I might not get the chance to front Zechs about it. Damn. He has information I want. He knows about those sorts of dreams and I need to know how to stop them. But I need to know about the shit he is in too, and I'm sure he's not going to want to tell me about that. I have to get them to settle down for the night so I can go to bed. If we keep our voices down I might be able to get something out of him./

Zechs had to be different in much the same way as he and Quatre were different from most people. The man might be sitting propped up in the tent behind and to one side of him, but Duo could feel a dark and brooding presence behind him. It needed explaining. While whatever it was Zechs could do was different to Quatre's space heart and was incredibly different from his own vague feelings of needing to be somewhere and doing something specific, and that drove him relentlessly on occasion, Duo was sure it was somehow the same.

Getting Zechs to talk about it instead of simply glare at him in stubborn silence would not be easy. Suspecting was not enough and getting confirmation would be difficult. If he did get the man to admit to an extra sensory ability, perhaps even explain what he could do; if not how he could do it, what then?

/I need to talk to Quatre. He knows about my 'feelings' and he's not laughed about them. I didn't tell him about what I sometimes feel, but he knew. He must have been watching me, right from that time we sheltered in Arabia. You can't hide much from Quatre. I wonder what he would do, what he would think, if he had some alone time with Zechs?/

But to tell Quatre what little he knew would place his friend at risk. Just his coming out into the mountains after Marquise had placed them all at risk.

He could almost feel a hand resting a millimetre off his shoulder. There was a hand, hovering just that fractional bit from his shoulder. It was there, he could feel it. But there was no one standing behind him, no one looming over him. No one physical, at least.

How did he do it, this phantom presence?

Duo wanted to shrug his shoulders, to free himself of the presence standing so close, but he dared not. Not with Trowa watching him. Quatre's lover was tolerant of his wilder moments, but Yuy and Chang were on the other side of that open doorway and they certainly would not understand or ignore eccentric seeming behaviour. They would not understand that he was not imagining things; that he did not speak just to attract their attention. It would only make them more determined to step in and guide him into making a 'decent' life.

Settle down, get a job, be normal. That was their 'decent' life.

What the fuck was normal anyway?

They made him so angry some days. They thought he needed to be just like them, to have what they had; do what they did with their Preventer protocols and their 'look at me, I am normal' obsession.

He knew how desperately they wanted to be just another person, to be normal, to fit in with the new world order. If you did not see the world in the same shades of grey, then you were in need of guidance. It was a very black and white world to some people, but Duo chose to think of himself as special. He took pride in being an individual.

Not abnormal or deviant or weird.

Duo could feel, see and taste the colours of the world.

"I suspect much is not as it seems."

Trowa's voice shattered his thoughts and thrust him back into the pantry, back into his solid body. While he could still feel that looming presence behind him it was not so vivid now; not so vibrant.

"What's Quatre up to?"

"Hopefully he would be in bed, which is where I long to be." Trowa turned the camera over in his hands. "This… this is not what I expected to find."

"Yeah." Duo's eyes flicked back to the tent. "Sure as hell wasn't what I expected to find."

"I owe Mr. Maxwell my life."

The quiet voice seemed to rumble from the rock surrounding them and Duo suppressed a shiver. There was something dangerous, not so much in the voice, but in the air. With a shiver tracing the length of his spine, Duo thought the voice might have been coming from the Shadow looming over him.

"Yeah. I guess you do." Trowa set the camera beside him. "I'll make a copy of this when I get back to the helo."

"You should have waited until morning, Tro. It would have been safer."

"Undoubtedly, but we fly when we are ordered to. Given our orders we should be on our way back to the helicopter now, but I am not inclined to go out in that wind again." He grinned. "You know the weather is bad when the other two are not inclined to venture out."

In the tent Zechs listened, eyes closed, his attention focused within. He could almost touch Duo and he suspected the younger man could feel his presence, though he would fail to understand the implications. For the moment it was safer no one suspect what he could do.

Barton was far less abrasive than Chang had proven to be and Duo was more comfortable with him. He was quieter, more prone to contemplation and too easily underestimated. He had been the infiltrator, the chameleon who infiltrated Oz and Barton's organization. Zechs knew he was one to be watched as he would not act quickly, nor recklessly. This one would observe and plan and act only when he was certain of the need.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	38. Chapter 38

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows Minor to Wind, Anger, Game Word count: 2,123

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows Minor to Wind, Anger, Game Word count: 2,123

Series: Friends 38/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge

Chapter 38

Ignorance could be bliss.

Ignorance could also be summed up in a tally of lives.

Lives already lost and lives yet to be lost.

A little more than three hours ago he had not suspected Zechs Marquise, aka Milliardo Peacecraft, of being the Black Opal. Possessing this knowledge presented him with the task of acting before unpleasant consequences could result.

Conspiracy always led to unpleasant consequences and this particular instance had the potential to be more than merely unpleasant.

What he knew, little as it was, was sufficient to incited panic before wiser heads could prevail. He had asked dangerous questions and in doing so he had revealed his interest in the forbidden game of espionage, assassination and the age old art of backstabbing and string pulling for personal gain.

There must be repercussions as a result of his discovery.

It was not just he who was now involved and about whom he must worry. By association others who knew nothing of the sordid world of political intrigue would be dragged into the matter.

/We are all targets./

The greatest danger to himself, to those he cared for and those who relied on him, would come in the next seven to fourteen days. It was feasible that for as much as a month he must guard what he held most precious against the panicked reaction of those who controlled the operation he could expose to the public, and to certain private concerns who actually had the means to do something about it.

Black Ops. Preventers made use of it, Une had admitted it. Other government agencies and no few private concerns would also have used the specialist unit. There was a reason why such units were banned in this time of peace, and those people of influence and position who were involved would be inclined to do anything necessary to keep their identities secret.

Including setting Black Opal on his heels.

If what he suspected was true of Milliardo Peacecraft then that was the last thing he wanted. There were certain things even he could not protect against and if his assumption was anywhere near the reality, going up against Black Opal was not something he was particularly keen to attempt.

He would far prefer Milliardo become an ally.

He had to wonder just how deep in the government this organization had its roots. How deeply must he reach to get his message across? The only politician he knew for certain did not know of the group was Relena Darlian, and she was the one politician he would not choose to confide in. Not with this information. He would not be able to keep from her the knowledge that her brother was the Black Opal.

That would not only politically embarrass her, but it would further darken her view of her brother and Quatre suspected Milliardo had gone to great lengths to protect her.

Relena worked hard at furthering the peace and the pacifists had control of the Senate and Council of Representatives. A week could be a long time in politics and if it became public knowledge that an elite agency existed, superseding even the Preventers and the ESUN Security Agency, then confidence in the government would falter. What need did pacifists have for elite operations units shrouded in secrecy?

In a pacifist society, what need was there for political assassination? Did the world and colonies not now work together for the furtherance of all mankind? What need was there for political and business oriented espionage?

/Anyone who thinks such does not still go on is a bloody fool. It is as rife now as it was in the days of the Alliance./

Too often politically active Pacifists were too one sided, too blinded by their ideals to see what was happening about them. Sometimes this could be an advantage and someone was making use of the Pacifists tendency to think all the world desired peace as much, and in the same way, as they.

They had too much faith in their fellow man.

There would be a core group who knew about the Operations Unit. A limited number of people in highly influential positions, who pulled the strings, determined the assignments and dictated the actions to be taken. He needed to determine the identities of this group and ensure they knew to leave his people and his family alone.

He was more than a successful business man. If they targeted Winner Enterprises, or the Winner Corporation and their many and varied subsidiaries, the repercussions would rock the entire Earth Sphere Unified Nation.

At what point did a business conglomerate cease to be just a business concern?

The corporation his father had headed and lost to Oz had grown beneath his guiding hand. It had not been easy to claim his place at the helm but he had persevered and he had proven his worth, and the coffers of the Winner fortune overflowed. That overflow he poured back into the business, expanding their interests, improving the living conditions of those who worked for him and those who benefitted from the products they provided.

If anyone was to pull down the empire he had built and carefully guided, then he had no doubt the ESUN itself would feel the repercussions. He needed to survive long enough for those who thought they were in control to realize just how big the Winner interests were. He needed to wait for someone to do the number crunching and determine the disaster for stability the loss of the corporation would spell for them all. If there was no care for the people, there would at least be a care for their own wallets.

He would need to set his watchdogs to observing the share market and trace the shares sold over the next two weeks. That would confirm for him certain identities and give him an indicator of who might be involved. They would dump their Winner stock as quickly as they determined to take him down.

He would need to be discerning and quickly determine the most dangerous of those who would mark him.

Of course, if he could manage a few words with Zechs Marquise he would learn a lot more. The man would know who pulled the strings, or at least suspect, despite all efforts to keep him under control. Quatre knew enough of the Lightning Count's reputation to know he was not a fool.

It made him so angry that in these peaceful days, when the world and colonies were learning to coexist in peace that a Black Ops Unit was operating. Of course one might say the peace was going as well as it was because of the clandestine interference of the group. Perhaps so, but the days of such units were long gone in his view and Quatre Winner was accustomed to having his view listened to and not easily dismissed.

In the coming days he would need to learn how long the unit had existed and the identities of those who held the leash. The President should know of such a unit, but Quatre personally knew the current President and he very much doubted the man would sanction such a unit. He was a gentle man, intelligent, strong when he needed to be and dedicated to the peace, but with a great deal of respect for human life and personal freedom.

Still, many people would say such about him and he knew the truth about himself only too well.

He had killed a great many people and his every waking moment was his attempt to atone for their deaths.

There would have to be a paper trail.

You could not run any organization efficiently without keeping records. Having a chain of command was a must and that meant there was information to be found. Somewhere. All he needed was the resources by which to find it, which he certainly had, and a place to start, which he also had.

Preventers had used the Black Ops Unit.

Une had not attempted to hide it, no doubt knowing he already would have known before he fronted her. She knew he was not a fool and she would know to take his warning of repercussions seriously. Lady Une would attempt to talk down his knowledge, knowing he would fight back if they targeted his company, his friends and family.

And he was not inclined to make of himself a target either.

He would approach Trowa on his return and determine if there might be records to be found in the Preventer database, which would probably necessitate involving Heero to hack the system. He was, already, pulling his friends into the mess and their involvement was inevitable. They would not stay out of the matter once they knew he had involved himself, and while they would call him all kinds of fool, he knew he could not have stayed out of it.

There were few people braving the icy streets of New Port City this night. Many of the primary streets would become nothing more than wind tunnels in this weather and that was to his advantage.

If his estimation of Lady Une was accurate, she would not have called in to report his interference in the matter as yet. She would be considering the repercussions and how well she might understate the fact he knew of the group, but she was well trained and she would report. If he was lucky he might have as much as an hour before the hounds began to hunt.

The car sped through the night and he watched the deserted streets in brooding silence. The world continued on, driven forward by the relentless passing of the hands of the clock. The world did not care for the fate of one Quatre Winner, or for his friends and employees, or his family. The Earth was solid, real. More real, more permanent than the people who walked it's surface. The Earth would not care if he lived or died.

Unfortunately, certain people would care about his knowledge and what he would choose to do with it, and how he could affect them and their operation.

The common man would care very much if he was taken down in haste and with little thought for the consequences. He reached for the intercom and drawing a deep breath made a note of the time. Inclement weather or not, even in New Port City there were businesses that traded all night. He should know; many of them belonged to him.

"Take the next left and pull in behind the service station."

The world was slowly changing. Not enough years had passed and the wars were still prominent in people's memories. Business was prospering; the recession ending, goods and services were becoming more available and affordable. He had worked hard to ensure business recovered and, in Sanc's case, that businesses succeeded.

Sanc more than most countries on Earth had suffered from the war, never really recovering under the hand of the Alliance Governor appointed to keep its people subdued. The invasion of Romefeller forces leading to the fiasco of Queen Relena had not helped matters, but since peace had come every effort had been made to remake a ruined country.

What he had helped to build, sweating and labouring along side everyone else, he could pull down more easily than it had taken to build it.

Most people gave not a thought to the complexities of government and big business, unless it impinged on their personal world and made commodities scarce, or disrupted services they required. Then they cursed long and loud. He had no intention of ruining Sanc, but it was inevitable that at least one demonstration on his part would be required to get his point across.

He would need to demonstrate to those hiding in dark places the consequences of attempting to pull down an integral part of the business community. He needed to ensure his people were safe, and he would no more shirk the necessities of this battle than he had shirked what had needed to be done during the war.

Conspiracies invariably led to people being hurt; and, unfortunately, to a body or two.

He was determined that body would not be his own, that of his lover or his friends. The telephone was in his hand again and he had no conscious memory of punching in the number, but the soft burr of the ring tone was there and then a voice he recognized.

"Abdul. Prepare site four."

There was a moment of silence on the line and then quiet acknowledgement of the instruction given. Satisfied Quatre broke the connection and sighed.

It had, irrevocably, begun.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	39. Chapter 39

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows, Murder Minor to Anger and Information Word count: 1,965

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadows, Murder Minor to Anger and Information Word count: 1,957

Series: Friends 39/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge Duo, Zechs, Trowa and Duo, Zechs and Relena

Chapter 39

Enough prevarication. Events were progressing about him and once his survival was known, people would begin protecting themselves.

He needed to give some thought to the preparations needed to ensure the person, or persons, responsible for his current situation did not have the opportunity to elude his investigation. Or gain sufficient time to strike again, this time more successfully. Given the near success of this attempt he could not afford to allow them a second stab at his back.

For a time he must guard himself against those who had for years covered his back, supporting him through the missions he was assigned. He could no longer trust his controllers and even should he discover the identity of the person responsible for this outrage, he could no longer give his trust to the organization.

It was time for retribution and an ending.

There had been an increasing instance of requests for assassinations coming his way; requests he had refused. On investigation of the proffered assignments he had determined finding other means to remove the desired obstacles from the picture, without killing, to be the more effective path. He was not afraid to kill, but he was notoriously picky about who he killed. By nature he was a hunter, but not a rabid killer, and he had thought his controllers understood that distinction until the instructions for a hit had begun to come in with increasing frequency.

He had refused the first few requests, glaring his controllers into submission and reminding them in a frosty tone he was no assassin. He was an agent who worked to keep the peace, and the deal he had struck with the organization who had sought his services was that he did not kill, unless in self defence. He had learned to trust his shadowed side to extricate him from situations which might lead to discovery. The last thing he wanted on any assignment was to be discovered and have the option to kill suddenly be no option, but necessity.

Perhaps someone had determined it was time to bring in an assassin to replace him?

Black Opal no more ran around killing indiscriminately than Milliardo Peacecraft had during his days in the service. By nature he was not a wanton killer, contrary to the belief of too many who claimed to know him. There was a lot of supposition about him and most of it annoyed him, it was so far from the real Milliardo Peacecraft it was laughable, but he was not inclined to disabuse anyone of their notions.

It all added to the mystique of the Black Opal.

It made working to secure the peace without killing possible.

There was one person he would need to kill and he would do so with little sorrow. The one who had brought him to this isolated place in the middle of the Sanc Alps would feel the cold bite of death. Not even the nanobots could have saved him an indefinite stay in this icebox that was the cabin. Only Duo Maxwell's interference in the affair had saved him from death, and it was a debt he would repay by removing anyone who might hold Duo accountable for his continued survival.

There would be a second body, and this one must be dealt with for the safety of the people. The nutcase who had left him here, opening a wrist just enough to see him bleed out slowly, bound hand and foot to a chair and drugged no less, would of necessity become his first target. After having succeeded so easily in his revenge that one now had a taste for murder and would not stop. The slightest incident, no matter how innocent, could be enough to set him to killing again and if he was alive now, he would not be for long.

Given the secrecy surrounding the organization it was entirely possible the one who had set the stage for his capture and murder would have removed his tool to cover his back.

It would be the expedient thing to do.

/Very possibly it has already been done, the order given and some new hireling, a little less picky about killing than I, could have carried through the order; but there is a chance he is still running loose. If he is, then he is mine./

It would take time to determine the instigator of the affair but he would succeed in finding him, or her. That one he would find and though it would not be easy it would not be as hard as the one who wanted him dead would think.

He was careful with how much of himself he revealed. The Shadow persona would only require a few minutes to determine the guilt, or innocence, of anyone he targeted. Who they were and he particularly wanted to know the why. He must not forget to ask 'why' before he removed them from this life.

Of course there were other factors to be considered.

Barton was trying to see into the tent again, but the degree of shadow would be sufficient to defeat him. The lighting was too poor in the pantry to offer anyone a decent view of him and Duo's body was half shielding the entrance to the tent. While Barton could see little, if anything of him, he could see Barton clearly enough.

The man's hands were locked around the vidcam, and through the medium of his Shadow he could see the tension in those long slender fingers. He had strong hands, competent hands and those fingers were too tight on the device. The man had not liked what he had witnessed and Zechs could feel the growing concern in him.

Concern for his friend.

Barton was not a fool. He would know, after viewing the footage that Zechs would not, could not, let the matter drop. Barton would know he could not afford to leave the incident and go on without retaliating. The younger man was canny enough to detect the undercurrents flowing from this scenario and he must know which way the wind would blow. But he knew his friend also and Duo had already warned him not to get involved; to guard his back against possible repercussions from being a part of the rescue mission.

Such a warning would be taken seriously. Gundam pilots, even without their Gundams, were never to be taken lightly. The warning smacked of conspiracy in grand halls full of shadowy dealings and dirty undertakings. The man was a Preventer and would know corruption was rife in the government of the world nation, and anyone who thought it was not was a dreamer. An idealist.

Like his little sister, who perpetually saw only the good in people.

It was inevitable that one day Relena would learn just how rotten her peace administration was becoming.

Romefeller had had too many fingers in too many pies to be ousted so easily from the power games. Their particular brand of intrigue was dangerous and no one was safe from them. Certainly he was not safe from them should they prove to be behind this attempt on his life, and if they succeeded in removing him from the picture, they could also remove Relena.

/It is possible she is making waves again. It is possible someone has decided to target her, but first they would need to remove me./

He had warned them.

He had warned them what he would do if they targeted his sister.

As a part of his agreement to once more don the mantle of the Black Opal, he had garnered an agreement that his sister was to be left strictly alone. Her protection from those who worked in the shadows had been assured, and he had kept his hand on his sister's life to ensure their adherence to the agreement. Casting himself back into the murky shadows underlying the peace the world at large enjoyed, had been a small price to pay for her safety.

Relena being Relena, she had not made it easy for him. Time and again her policies annoyed people it was better not to aggravate, and he had found it necessary to remind his controllers of their contract. It was not impossible that their tolerance might have been pushed too far, their patience finally breaking. Someone might have decided the Peacecraft siblings as a whole were not worth the aggravation.

It was possible, even probable, that someone had decided to kill the Black Opal to allow for a hit on the Foreign Minister who, in the near future, was expected to make a political move which would place her in line for a higher position in the current ministry.

Relena made a habit of innocently making waves in certain murky circles, but was she considered to be enough of a problem to warrant a contract out on her?

He could not judge. Not here and not now.

He would need to investigate, review certain sealed files and speak to particular people.

There was also the matter of his last assignment, the acquisition of documentation from the office of the ESUN President himself. It was a mission he had at first balked at, but in the end he had carried it out as neatly and precisely as the Black Opal was renowned for. They had had to convince him of the importance of the mission and he had not read the documentation he had acquired, but perhaps he should have?

Hind sight, it was a marvellous thing, but utterly useless to indulge in. He had to wonder now if the mission was sanctioned by the organization, or if it was of special significance to a certain individual or a select few. He would need to pay a few people a clandestine visit and demonstrate to them first hand the abilities of the Black Opal. He was sure they would be delighted with his intrusion into their private lives.

Allowing his anger at this situation to overcome his reason would not do. He needed to be the Black Opal to deal with the implications and they would regret arousing his enmity. If he learned this incident was intended as a precursor to taking Relena out of the picture, through either scandal or assassination, they would more than simply regret their decision.

The passing from this world of the one or more involved in making such a decision would be in no way quick or easy.

It would take him some time to investigate everyone who knew of the taskforce, which was not a problem as he had patience, but he had certain skills to speed events along. The investigation would include Lady Une and Preventers, as he had worked on a number of occasions on behalf of the Preventer Chief.

He had three Preventer agents in the cabin with him and how safe did that make him? Had the order already gone out, to one or more of these three, to finish the job if he was found to be alive?

It was not impossible Lady Une would give such an order. She had done far worse without turning a hair in the past.

Duo's friends or not, he would respond in kind if one of them made a move to take him down.

Until he knew exactly who was involved in this game of cat and mouse, kill or be killed that had become his life, he would consider them involved and not trustworthy.

There was only one person he could trust and that one he did not want involved in the sordid mess it was sure to become.

Maxwell had proven himself to Black Opal, and that persona was singularly hard to impress.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	40. Chapter 40

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Wind, Conspiracy, Games Minor to Hair, Information, Flight Word count: 1,637

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Wind, Conspiracy, Games Minor to Hair, Information, Flight Word count: 1,637

Series: Friends 40/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries www.gundam-wing-diaries./gw/Karina/gwKarina.htm

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge

Chapter 40

The crackle of the fire filled the room and Trowa was comfortable in the silence. Duo fed small bits of wood into the flame, now and then carefully placing a larger piece to sustain a strong heat. With the door open at his back a constant cold draft entered the room and Trowa imagined this space would have been comfortably warm with the access sealed.

They had found an ideal shelter in which to pass the less than pleasant days and nights of their captivity by the extreme weather. This snowbound mountain could easily have become Duo's grave. Though the howl of the wind had lessened somewhat Trowa had no desire to return to the helicopter at this time.

Duo glanced at him, motioning briefly to the doorway. "How long before they will be ready to eat?"

"I would imagine they would be by now. I'll check."

He was almost certain Maxwell wished a private word with Marquise and would take the opportunity to speak with him. He could guess what they would discuss and judged he could afford to give them a few minutes for Duo to question Marquise as to what he could and could not say about what had happened.

It was a dangerous game they found themselves playing. Conspiracies were always nasty; ragged edged mine fields where one false step meant disaster. Political games were messy enough but when the game degenerated into the murky darkness Trowa felt from this situation, it took on a new meaning.

He only hoped he could keep Quatre out of it.

Taking up the handycam, he nodded to Duo and slipped out of the room, looking around as he ran a thumb caressingly over the cold metal in his hand. Chang was nowhere to be seen and Heero stood beside his tent, surveying the pegs hammered into the ice coating the floor as though he expected the ropes to slip and collapse the structure.

"We are not going to be faced with wind, Heero. It will not blow away."

The roof above them groaned as though laughing at him, and he eyed the cobweb strewn rafters with speculation. Across from him Heero snorted, a wordless grunt before turning to face him.

"We will need to leave for the helo early. Now that I have set up for the night I will contact headquarters and estimate our time of arrival."

"Where is Chang?"

"Here."

Wu Fei emerged from his tent, brushing loose tendrils of hair from his eyes. He still looked to be in something of a sour mood and Trowa sighed, far from looking forward to what he felt needed to be done. Wu Fei could be difficult at the best of times and this was far from the best situation. Best to get on quickly, he decided.

"Before you do anything I think you need to see this. Then we will talk."

He had their attention and with a surreptitious look over his shoulder he noted Duo leaning into the tent, his braid pooling on the floor beside his bracing hand. He would be able to give Duo a few minutes and anyway, he needed to brief his partners on the latest information.

Chang slipped up to his left and Heero moved to his right as he crouched down, using the cluster of tents as shelter from the chill breeze wafting through the cabin. A little of the heat from the fire leaked out to pool in this spot and it was marginally warmer than the rest of the cabin.

"Duo gave me the camera. He took photographs when he arrived, as well as some video footage. He might not be a professional crime photographer, but this is good enough for us to use as evidence."

Chang grunted, resting his chin on one knee as he hunkered down, peering at the small screen as Trowa pressed play.

"He told me earlier he had photographs."

Trowa was uncertain if they would comment or request pauses as he played the footage, but they remained silent as they watched first the video footage and then the detailed photographs of the room and the man tied to the chair. Though he had no formal training as a photographer Duo had a natural talent with the camera and had done a commendable job of capturing the scene. It was not pretty.

He had photographed everything from skid marks in the ice to the blood pooling on the floor at Marquise's feet. He heard Heero shift uncomfortably at a couple of points, specifically at the most graphic depictions of the damage done to the man. Heero's views on Marquise were complicated by his knowledge of the man garnered during their constant competition throughout the war. Exactly what Heero thought of Marquise Trowa did not know, but given he wanted to court Relena, Trowa suspected Heero had taken the trouble to thoroughly investigate Milliardo Peacecraft's past.

No doubt the orphaned Prince of Sanc had led a chequered past and Heero had never mentioned the man in private conversation with Trowa. Even following the fight in Antarctica Heero had said little about the man he seemed drawn to. He had the impression Heero had been surprised to learn of a link between Marquise and the black ops group.

"This complicates matters," Heero murmured.

"It will likely lead to a lengthening of the journey back to the helicopter by several hours."

Trowa sighed. Wu Fei was still angry and being obstinate then. He had expected more than that after seeing the evidence of what Marquise had gone through. Trowa had hoped Chang would calm down and be more willing to discuss the logistics of their situation. To him it was obvious Zechs would not be in any condition to make the trip to their helicopter.

"Option two then," Yuy murmured. "We use Duo's machine. It should not take any more than three hours to dig it out and check its systems with all four of us working. We can fly to our machine and transfer Marquise there."

That at least was an improvement and Chang merely grunted, scowling at the camera still held by Trowa. He looked far from happy and glared at the shimmer of firelight coming from the pantry.

"This was personal."

Heero's comment fell with the grace of a lead weight. Chang snorted, watching Heero run a grubby fingernail over the slashed wrist depicted on the screen. The screen was too small to show good detail, but it was enough for them to get a good idea of what had happened.

"Someone with a grudge from the war," Wu Fei decided. "Whether it was White Fang or Oz related, it was personal."

"Do you think it was easy to bring him down? You heard the preliminary report from the crew at his home. He was taken down by subterfuge, not skill, and I can not see him having an easy security system to circumvent."

Yuy was glaring at the camera and Trowa could guess what was bothering him. He had fought Zechs during the war, he was the one of their number who had the most experience with how the man thought and operated. Trowa guessed Heero was having a hard time equating the Lightning Count being taken down by a lesser man.

Lesser man? They had no idea of the experience level of the person who had managed to come close to killing Marquise. He might well be an elite soldier with a pet grudge. There was too much they did not know about what happened and what Marquise had been doing since his return from Mars and departure from Preventers.

/I doubt asking him will produce results. We have suspected a Black Ops unit is operating and now we know it. Marquise is a part of it. Perhaps he failed a mission and someone got close enough take him down./

But it was not up to them to investigate, so they might never learn the answers to the questions he wanted to ask. Une had given them explicit instructions about what they needed to do and he knew she intended to keep them out of the business. To protect them and more likely protect the Preventers organization from any fallout.

Duo's warning rang in his mind like a clarion; the alarm a warning of games being played in dangerous places.

He had the uncomfortable feeling they were already irrevocably involved.

"I need to contact Une for instructions on where to take Marquise." Heero straightened. "I would think, if our earlier speculation is accurate, that those directions will be to a pick up point, not a hospital."

"We will not be given dispensation to investigate." Trowa closed the camera's screen, folding it neatly into the side of the unit.

"No." Heero's growl seemed to echo about the room. "I do not believe they will want us involved."

"We have no need to be involved." Chang sniffed, glancing at the open doorway. "None of us should be involved."

"But we are," Trowa murmured.

"Yes, we are," Heero agreed.

Chang snorted. "Maxwell is fool enough to stay involved."

"Highly possible." Heero agreed. "Trowa, can you keep Quatre out of it?"

Beneath the blue eyes intently watching him Trowa felt the weight of the question. Quatre would be inclined to concern himself, no matter what he said; no matter what any of them said. If Duo was involved in the mess then Quatre was sure to be as well.

"Not if Duo is involved."

"That is what I thought." Heero sighed.

"Typical." Wu Fei grunted, straightening. "We need time."

"I will make the call from outside and inform headquarters we must shelter for the night. Conditions up here are worse than estimated and we can not give an accurate ETA on our return."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	41. Chapter 41

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Information, Assassination, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Shadows Word count: 2,200

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Information, Assassination, Conspiracy Minor to Wind, Shadows Word count: 2,200

Series: Friends 41/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ In Australia Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge Quatre, Duo and Zechs

Chapter 41

To gain the information he had, scanty as it was and filled with suppositions, he had needed to expose himself to danger. In doing so he had exposed other people to danger by association and he dared not consider if he had the right to do so. He was Quatre Winner, head of Winner Enterprises, the Winner Corporation and the hidden voice behind a score of lesser known companies and corporations he held controlling shares in.

Besides, it was already too late.

There was nothing certain in this life and people took chances whenever they left their homes and walked the streets. Not that their homes were necessarily safe. Against the likes of Black Opal nowhere was safe. He had mired himself and others in a mess and he would need to use all of the resources at his disposal to extricate everyone from the danger of collateral damage. It was uncomfortable to think that all of his resources, and they were legion, might not be sufficient to extricate himself, let alone anyone else, from the mess he had stepped into.

Had he bitten off more than he could chew?

No, he would not make the mistake of second guessing himself before he had even begun to fight.

He had played his hand and revealed his knowledge to one who would report his entry into the scenario and it was a move fraught with danger. He did not know everything, indeed he knew little, but that little was dangerous in the extreme to those who sought to remain hidden. He had already crossed the point of no return and over thinking things before he received accurate information for assessment would serve no purpose.

He had tipped his hand and now he must make a decisive move. This would put his opponents on notice and allow them to know he was serious and would not easily be removed from the picture. He need only survive until someone, somewhere down the track, realized the repercussions of wrecking Quatre Winner and, on understanding the implications, called off the hounds.

There would come a point when they could negotiate and come to an understanding like civilized human beings. They would be able to smooth things over, but Quatre would ensure it was not to the detriment of Duo Maxwell or one Zechs Marquise.

His interference was sure not to be appreciated by Duo or Marquise. He could expect Duo to call him all the names under the sun and invent a few new expletives, but he would not back down. Indeed, he could not back down now; he had taken the first steps and by the time they came down off the mountain he would undoubtedly be fighting off the hounds.

He would deal with Duo and ultimately Zechs Marquise when the appropriate times came, but now, he needed to consider Lady Une. It would take Une only a few minutes to make the call and alert the organization controlling the Black Ops group of the breach in security, but first she would consider her standing, Preventers position in the scenario and the benefits of giving him a head start.

The woman was nobody's fool and was sure to take the necessary actions required to cover Preventers involvement. That she would report him was not in doubt, but how long exactly he had that was the question of importance.

Preventers meant all to her, it had become her passion, her life. She would be sure to erase any and all possible leads from the organizations computer systems, but any decent hacker knew you could never truly remove all the data simply by deleting it. If you knew how you could recover deleted information.

It was even possible that Une had no information on the unit stored on the Preventer database. The woman had sufficient resources at her disposal to have a completely separate computer system for any dubious practises that might be required to be performed in the name of peace.

Pacifist politicians were notoriously squeamish about methods used to achieve their goals. Une would be smart enough to protect such information from all but the most determined hacker. The only way you could hide something in this day and age was not to have it written down… anywhere.

The most likely scenario was Preventer Earth did operate a second sealed computer system and one of the first things Quatre would need to do would be to locate it. He would need the information contained on its hard drives.

He would need to remember who he was dealing with. Anne Une, Preventer Earth, possessed the ability to mindlessly dedicate herself. She had dedicated herself to Treize Khushrenada and his goals, and Quatre honestly doubted she had shifted out of that mind set. She had, he was sure, merely substituted Preventers for Oz and was working for what she saw as Khushrenada's goals.

To keep the peace her precious Mr. Treize had died for, and to keep certain persons protected, she was more than capable of following unsavoury paths.

/She could prove to be as much an ally as an obstacle in this. I will have to keep in mind from one minute to the next the changeable nature of the woman and her dedication to the peace. I would not wish for a recurrence of the Colonel Une persona./

Une had proven in the past she was more than capable of executing an assassination. In truth he was surprised those who controlled the Black Opal had not hired her to be another jewel in their necklace of tools. She had previously participated in such clandestine activities for Oz, or more specifically, for Khushrenada. She might have worked for them as easily as she now worked for Preventers and he could be thankful she would be inclined to take a back seat in this matter and keep the Preventers out of the melee.

He stared out of the window, noting familiar landmarks and considering what his next action should be. There had been no questions from his driver, no surprise there. He was trained by Rashid after all and though not a member of the Maguanacs he was loyal to the Winner.

Lifting the receiver beside him he pressed the button for the driver who, behind the raised partition, lifted his own handset.

"Sir?"

"Pull in behind that service station."

Here the shadows were deep enough to hide the dark coloured car for a time. He had chosen this position not for its shadows but because of the open car yard across the street. Quatre pulled his coat more tightly about him, knowing the cold was more a reflection of his emotions at the moment than it was a reaction to the weather.

The car glided to a stop and Quatre was out of the back seat before his driver could react and was even faster to slip into the front of the car. At his drivers startled look Quatre could not help but grin.

"I want you to go to the car yard across the street and purchase the most common looking car on the lot. It does not have to be the cheapest or the most expensive, just make sure it has a decent working heater and is generally unremarkable. Register it in the name on this card; you are acting as his agent."

Quatre slipped a credit card into the driver's hand.

"When you are done drive to Simms Coffee, do you know it?" At the quick nod Quatre pulled on a glove. "I'll be waiting there. The credit card is usable by the barer; you will have no problem there and try to avoid questions."

"Sir."

The man was no fool and would know to keep his mouth shut. He looked like a business man himself, not a chauffeur and Quatre knew he would cause less of a stir than if he himself had gone to buy the car. Hopefully the owner of the establishment would just want to go home for the evening and accomplish the necessary paperwork quickly and with few questions. The last thing he wanted at the moment was a chatty sales rep.

"I'll wait for you at Simms, just honk the horn."

Quatre waited long enough to see the man stumble, slipping on ice and recover, bending into the wind as he crossed the road carefully to avoid further slips. Checking his pockets he drew a deep breath before sliding out of the car and braving the wind and cold. He slipped on the icy sidewalk more than once as he used the shadows to conceal his progress and he was thankful to turn the corner and gain some small protection from the wind.

New Port City was liberally sprinkled with CCTV and he knew it would be impossible to avoid the cameras, but he did not have to make his identity obvious. His hat was pulled down low over his face, his collar was up and he held his hat with one gloved hand, the other clutching the lapels of his coat and exposed ends of his scarf to close out the cold from hitting him in the chest and face. Hoping he would not be frozen by the time he reached his destination, Quatre picked his way carefully toward a small cluster of stores open for late night business.

He was not the only one walking the streets and they were just as intent on hurrying and huddling into their coats and hats as he. There was nothing to mark him as being different from the other people who had finished work and were intent on making a few necessary purchases before heading home to the comfort of a heater and family. He followed a woman who could have been mistaken for a Yeti, so bundled up in fur was she, into a department store.

He found what he was looking for quickly, purchased four mobile phones, each one on the pre paid system and retired to the men's toilet. The room was thankfully empty and he locked himself in a cubicle, dropped the lid on the seat and sat himself down, proceeding to activate each phone under an assumed name. The phones came with free credit, not much, but it would be enough for what he needed, and being on the pre paid system they were virtually untraceable.

Exactly what he needed.

The government might be able to trace and tap into his telephones but they would have a harder time monitoring any calls he made on these particular phones, making them his greatest resource for the moment. There was nothing, no paper work, no contracts of any kind, to link these four phones to Quatre Winner. Checking no one had entered while he had been busy Quatre grinned wickedly as he dialled a number far more secret than his personal phone numbers.

There would be alarm bells ringing in certain halls, he knew. Only a select few people knew this number and the calling number would be registered and come up as unidentified. It rang twice before someone picked up on the other end and he recognized the deep rumbling voice demanding to know who was on the other end.

"Rashid. Site four in six hours."

He did not doubt Rashid would recognize his voice.

There was barely a pause before Rashid responded. "Understood."

"Lockdown?"

"In progress."

Disconnecting the call he slipped the phone into his pocket and made proper use of the facilities before hunching himself up into his coat and hat again and braving the elements. He had a few other purchases to make before he could go to Simms Coffee and meet his driver.

It was approaching an hour since he had fronted Une and the odds were she had made the call by now. Somewhere someone was deciding how best to deal with Quatre Winner's unwelcome interference and he was not about to give them a head start.

He paused in the restroom of another department store to place three calls, one to each of the managers placed directly beneath him in the Corporation hierarchy, informing them he was taking a week's vacation, effective immediately, and to expect a move in the share market as wild rumours and speculation was bandied about.

The final call he made was a particularly important one. He congratulated the Director on the birth of his new grandaughter; when one was The Winner there was always time to be polite, and then issued the immediate go ahead for the outright purchase of three companies he had been considering investing in. Three companies which would tip the scales in his favour if all worked as he wished it to.

Settling into the coffee shop he ordered take away for two and waited for the car. A honk of the horn and he grinned at the dark coloured car pulling into the space directly in front of the shop, gathered his purchases and hastened himself out of the warmth of the shop and into the car.

"Find an underground car park close by so we can eat while the food is hot."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	42. Chapter 42

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Information, Conspiracy, Assassination Minor to Shadows Word count: 1,940

Series: Friends 42/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 42

"We need to decide how much I can tell them."

Duo glanced over his shoulder and through the doorway to see Trowa speaking to Heero and Wu Fei emerging from his tent. Duo knelt in the opening and, after a moment, turned his back on his friends and pushed his shoulders into the tent, keeping his voice low. He did not want the others to hear anything Zechs would rather not be known.

"Nothing would be preferable," The blonde murmured. "but one is a realist. You are in enough danger without involving others whose reactions might be questionable at best."

Duo shrugged. "Friends? Sometimes I have to wonder about that. I don't understand them at the best of times, and I sure as hell know they don't understand me."

"Friends are precious, Duo, you should savour having them while you can."

He had known friends for a time, though he had not accounted anyone that status since he had split with Noin and she had reviled him for his actions. She was right of course, he was a bastard, but on that occasion he had been a bastard in her best interests. For her safety, though she refused to see it.

Better she hated him than have her involved with his Controllers. He had no doubt they would use her to control his mercurial independence.

"Yeah, well. Let's just agree to disagree, okay? You obviously don't want them to know about the nanobots."

He was a young man with issues, but who of them did not have issues? The Gundam Pilots all were affected by the war before they had a place within it. They had once been something other than terrorists with powerful machines which elevated them from obscurity to notoriety. And once he had been something very different to Zechs Marquise, the soldier who had, in yet another phase of his existence, become Black Opal.

It was not something to be particularly proud of, though he remained stubbornly true to what was left of his ideals.

"It would indeed be preferable for them to remain ignorant of the oddities of my physiology."

The fewer people who knew of the alterations made to his physiology the better. He felt enough of a freak without people knowing just how different he was. Some days he wondered about the Perfect Soldier though. Heero was different than the others and there were days he wondered if those who had trained him had not, perhaps, shared the same ideals as those who altered him.

He had heard some strange comments on events occurring during the war concerning Heero Yuy.

"And I guess all references to Black Opal are off the topic of conversation too?"

That was one name he did not want mentioned. Preventers would know of Black Opal and half the rumours accredited to be the results of his actions were false. There were other agents in the world, and other controlling agencies than the group who professed to control him.

"Indeed. They have no need to know of the alter ego I have been wearing for some time now. The less people who know of the group managing Black Opal, the better for us all. There are already too many who might be considered to be of note and those who profess to control me have short patience, and a tendency to jump to conclusions."

"And a habit of removing what they judge to be inconvenient?" Duo shrugged, shifting his weight a little for ease of comfort. "Yeah, I figured they would practise the genteel art of overkill."

"They tend to shoot first and remember there is such a thing as questions later," Zechs affirmed.

"Nice people you work for, Zechs Marquise."

Intense blue eyes briefly studied the shadowed figure leaning into the tent. Duo sounded disgusted but in no way surprised. Nor did he sound accusatory and Zechs was thankful Duo was not judging him. While he knew some of the story he did not know all of it and therefore was not so quick to judge.

"It was not considered necessary I approve of my Controllers or their actions. It was merely required that I carry out my missions to the best of my ability."

"You are an assassin for them then?"

Duo looked far from happy with the possibility and Zechs was pleased he could set that subject to rest. He was many things but an assassin was not one of them, despite the will of those who considered themselves his betters.

"I am not an assassin, nor have I ever been." Zechs shifted his weight a little to ease the aches and pains of remaining still for so long. "I have killed no one since taking up the mantle of Black Opal. It was expected I would obey them to the full excess of their ideal. However, One made it clear to those in higher places that One would not kill unnecessarily. I demonstrated to them that there are other ways than killing."

Duo studied the blonde in the dim light for a long moment, considering the implications. In the shadowy world of intrigue Zechs lived in, that must not have been a popular decision for him to make.

"I just bet that made you popular."

"It was a matter of some contention, until I demonstrated how effective not killing a target could be. I used one of those who were most rabid in their objections, and who preferred not to be named and clung to his protective shadows as a guineapig."

There was an underlying hint of amusement in the quiet words and more than a degree of satisfaction. Zechs certainly had no love for the organization which employed his particular skills.

Duo snickered. "What did you do?"

"I examined his life for the space of a week and revealed his clandestine activities to others who, like he, worked from the shadows and professed to be better than everyone else. When I delivered my report I asked if they would like me to turn my attention to their activities and air them for the world media to view. Strangely enough I was no longer instructed to assassinate targets."

"So you blackmailed them into respecting your will not to kill."

Zechs shrugged; a small life of broad shoulders. "I merely demonstrated the power of accurate information and what could be accomplished if one did not wish one's activities to become public knowledge. It is by far better than killing someone because they are unknowingly associating with would be terrorists; or business concerns not conducive to the productivity of another company."

Duo sucked in a startled breath. "Ah, I thought this was supposed to be an antiterrorist organization?"

"Corruption can be found everywhere, Mr. Maxwell, even amidst the halls of those who profess to have the greater good at heart. In fact, corruption and intrigue are most rife in those self same halls. It was not so simple of course, there was the need to demonstrate to them my abilities, but they determined it was best to step back from assassination and work with other means."

Duo could only wonder how Zechs accomplished what he suggested. Certainly those who worked with him would be sure to keep their activities low key, not desiring to have him turn his attention to them.

"No wonder they wanted to get rid of you. You must have an idea of who stepped over the line and took action against you."

Blue eyes blazed in the darkness and he inclined his head. He had been doing some thinking on whom would best benefit from his removal and, while at the moment he could not point a finger at any one individual, he was not entirely clueless.

"There are three possibilities of note and I shall visit each one, in the dark of night, and personally question them. I will know if they were involved and to what extent they involved themselves in the attempt on my life. They did not succeed and they will wish they had by the time Black Opal is retired."

Duo shook his head slowly. The deep voice was arctic, promising retribution. He did not doubt those responsible would hurt as much as Zechs had hurt and this time, despite his apparent distaste for killing, he guessed Zechs would kill. If he wanted to continue living he could not afford to allow the incident to go unpunished or, when his survival was discovered, he would have others seeking his death. To make a big enough impression to be left alone he would have to reinforce the lesson.

"Will it be world shattering?"

"It is a private matter, Mr. Maxwell."

"Ah."

So it would not be a glaringly obvious revenge. Something more discrete, something that would not raise questions Zechs would not want asked. Something he would certainly not want a group like Preventers investigating. Which brought them back to the three in the outer room of the cabin.

"I need to tell them something. They will ask and they will not take 'I can't tell you' well. At worst, they might begin an investigation of their own, without Lady Une's knowledge."

If such was to happen it would not be for his sake. They would concern themselves with their friend's involvement in something dark, sordid and dirty. Yes, he could see the Gundam Pilots meddling to protect one of their own, which would likely lead to Duo not going into hiding as he had promised.

"They need only know that one or more of the people I work for has decided I am now to be considered expendable. Their attempt to dispose of a nuisance has failed and I no longer consider myself constrained by the contract I signed, to work under these conditions. That is likely more than they need to know but it might give them pause."

He doubted it would have any effect on whatever they were planning to do about this mess. He still had to decide what to do about the return to New Port City, but one thing he did know, was that he would quite willingly return to the fold… for a time.

"I will, however, return to my employers to discuss the incident with them."

Discuss the incident. Such discussions, Duo decided, could amount to a world war if things went horribly wrong. Someone had made a decision at some time which called for Zechs to be removed and he would now return the favour and Duo did not doubt he would extract interest on that payment.

"What do you want me to do?"

He did not like the idea of Zechs working on his own when anyone around him could hold a knife aimed for his back. The man was no fool and he was not unaware of that shadowy, brooding darkness lurking in the tent. It was Zechs, but at the same time it was not and, to be honest, it scared the bejesus out of him.

"Go to ground, Duo. Stay out of it and keep yourself safe. Enough people I considered friends have died already and I would not wish to place your name on the roll call of casualties. Warn your friends you will be going to ground and they do not need to become involved. Une will happily keep them out of the matter and it may be a good idea for them to go on an assignment requiring their presence in some obscure location."

"Sounds like cowardice to me," Duo grumbled.

"Never that, Duo. That is the last thing anyone could accuse you of."

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	43. Chapter 43

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Crisis, Conspiracy Minor to Shadow Word count: 2,036

Series: Friends 43/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs and Quatre

Chapter 43

The engine purred, a muted rumble as the passing lights illuminated the car as they drove along the main street of New Port City. He sat erect, his head thrust as high as he could, using the shadows in the car to best advantage in the hope of keeping his identity secret. The cities CCTV system was good, with highly efficient cameras and they were well placed; if the angle was right he might be picked up on camera and identified, should anyone associate this totally unremarkable car with Quatre Winner and look more closely.

His driver asked no questions, following his instructions in silence and putting his trust in his employer. Quatre knew he had a host of responsibilities to his employees. He was placing everyone who worked for him in danger and in the current economic climate there were already too many people unemployed. His activities must not reflect back on the company.

Though it was already too late for that. The minute he had called Une he had come too far to back out. When he had spoken to her and made his intentions clear he had involved the company and he knew it, but it had not stopped him. His sisters would be furious and it would not surprise him if some of them moved to have him replaced.

They would have to be quick to disassociate themselves from his current activities and he would not blame them.

Not that he would really mind losing that kind of power and the bone aching weight of responsibility that went with it. He did not particularly enjoy the responsibilities of being at the top, but there was no option for him to step down gracefully and he had needed to prove he was not just a teenager when he had stepped up to take over the company. Now… it was highly possible that he would never be able to prove himself to his Board of Directors.

They might be rabid for his dismissal soon enough and to protect the people who worked for him, and who were entirely innocent of his current actions, he would not fight them. He had a nest egg secreted away which would be sufficient for him to rebuild independent from The Winner Corporation.

Besides, he and Trowa would enjoy more freedom if they started from scratch.

It was a crisis he had not thought he would face for many years and this situation was not exactly as he had expected events to play out. To begin with, it was not Milliardo Peacecraft he had expected to rouse the interests of people best avoided if one chanced to be psychic. He had expected to be approached years ago, but he had been careful about his use of his abilities and being the Winner had given him a certain amount of protection.

That protection would not count in this witch hunt.

Not with Milliardo Peeacecraft at the heart of the matter.

Nor would it be just he and Milliardo who would be noted to be of interest to these dangerous people.

Primary on his worry list was Duo, who would be in danger should anyone suspect he was one of the select individuals who were different. He had hoped to bring Duo to awareness of his abilities in careful stages; the man was volatile enough at the best of times, but being considered to be a freak by the general population was something Quatre had not wanted Duo to need to deal with. Nor did he wish for those who would seek to use those abilities to their advantage to learn of Duo's capabilities.

They were not freaks to be feared, nor were they tools to be used for personal gain and to influence power plays. They were merely different and, in his opinion, they were better suited to build a peaceful world than most others for the benefit of all.

If he was not careful he might turn into the very people he feared and Quatre sighed softly. He had to take such care to remind himself what it was he feared from others and not himself emulate their methods.

He knew of others with psychic potential, though amid the Gundam Pilots he was fairly sure there were only he and Duo with such talent. Trowa had good instincts but Quatre was fairly sure those instincts were not the result of abilities heightened by Psychic talent. He and Duo, he had thought, not daring to think for years about what he had sensed during the battle at Libra.

His mistake and one they might pay dearly for.

He, Duo and, it appeared, Milliardo Peacecraft could be numbered amidst those who were not as mundane as the vast majority of the human species.

That other awareness he had sensed during the madness of the battle above Earth; the pain and heartache and despair, and the cold, hard determination that it had to be done… those emotions had not come from one of the people he worked with. And that something else, the shadow, brooding, observing, powerful and leashed tightly but feeling that it must explode. That bundle of emotions, that sense of purpose and leashed power had been, he suspected, Milliardo Peacecraft.

The real Milliardo Peacecraft, not the madman the world had so carefully been coaxed to see.

Presumption was a dangerous thing, particularly when it involved the intricacies of a convoluted conspiracy to change the very nature of the human species. It had been a time of crisis, a time when those few people with the will to act, and the vision to scheme, could change the entire world and re direct the course of civilization. To effect change there had needed to be a hero and a villain. One must take on the role of hero and the other must be reviled as a villain, the be all and end all of blame for the lives lost and the disruption of values.

What greater impact than to have the child of pacifists in the role of supreme villain?

Some people attracted trouble with seemingly no effort on their part. Some people had the heart to stand up and fight for what was right. Some people had the intelligence and determination to take on accepted conventionality and wrest change from it. Some people could not simply be ignored or dismissed.

Milliardo Peacecraft and Treize Khushrenada had been two such individuals, living in the same age, who had, instead of opposing each other as they might easily have, instead chose to work together to effect startling change.

It made him wonder if perhaps Treize Khushrenada had himself been one of them; one who was different to the common species that professed to rule the planet, and might not have claimed talents above and beyond the ordinary.

Not that it mattered as the man was dead, leaving Peacecraft to survive as best he could in the aftermath of their world shaking intervention.

"Sir? Directions?"

Quatre focused on his surroundings and discovered they had passed through the business district and were approaching an intersection, the left off ramp would lead to a residential suburb and the right turn would lead them to a light industrial area.

"Go left and drive a random number of streets and direction for the next ten minutes, then come back in a roundabout route and go into the light industrial area."

Again no questions from his driver, the man simply moved lanes and flicked on the indicator preparatory to making the ramp and coming off the highway.

New Port City had changed in the intervening years since the war. Winner Enterprises had had much to do with that change and Quatre had watched the city grow and develop with a sense of pride at his participation in improving the living conditions of the people who had survived two invasions, three if you counted the liberation from Alliance occupation by Zechs Marquise of Oz.

One thing he would need to determine was exactly how different Marquise was in his mental capacity. There were varying degrees of psychic ability, varying levels of strength and sensitivity, and the innate character of the individual also factored in to the equation. Marquise had a unique perspective on living, given his past, and Quatre was sure the man had not intended to survive the explosion of the Libra.

Quatre suspected Khushrenada alone was not supposed to have died on that fateful day so many years ago.

Marquise was not suicidal though, from what little Quatre had managed to learn of him. Had any of them really expected to survive the war? Certainly he had not really expected himself to survive, though of course one could never really stop hoping and thinking one was invincible. Particularly a teenage male. Zechs, while older than the group commonly referred to as Gundam Pilots, had still been a teenager during the war. He had been older by a mere four years and guided by a man who was barely five years his senior.

They had all been so young, too young, and thought they could make a difference. And they had. Some of them were still working to make a difference, though now they worked in differing ways toward the same goal. Maintaining the peace.

Marquise was the Black Opal and the Black Opal was legendary; seemingly untouchable. He was reputed to be able to enter a room, or building, unseen and unheard. Clandestine infiltration and information retrieval was a specialty and, if rumour had it right, the Black Opal was not squeamish about killing. He was not too sure about the latter; there were so many rumours about the abilities of the Black Opal that one really had to wonder if the man was an urban legend and nothing more amid the shadowy halls of the powerful.

It would have to be more than the psychic ability though. He suspected there had been modifications made to Marquise, either during the war or after, when he had been recruited by the organization utilizing his particular skills. Nothing to the extent Heero had been modified, and Quatre now knew how extensively Heero had been altered. Yuy had trusted him enough after the war to come to him when he had needed help with some of those changes.

//Government departments have to answer to higher authorities, so they would not be as extreme as a private concern might be. Dekim Barton is no longer alive and his company have backed away from financing genetic enhancement facilities. There is also the matter of his being the Prince of Sanc to consider. I do not think they would have dared to interfere much in making modifications to a top level agent who was a member of the aristocracy.//

Even one who was as infamous as the Prince of Sanc.

Zechs was certainly no slouch and his Oz training would have been enhanced by his current employers. What Quatre needed to know was the extent of the physical modifications made, when they had been made, if the modifications were completed and would there be any danger to the man's health if the modifications were not completed?

//Would they have not modified him? No, I cannot believe they would not have enhanced some aspects of his physiology. From the rumours about The Black Opal he would have to be a modified agent. Psionics would not account for everything he is reputedly capable of doing, but I don't know how far they would go. How far he would permit them to go.//

Quatre was not fool enough to think Marquise would trust him enough to confide in him, and if Marquise did choose to talk of the modifications then he would not reveal all the details. Certainly should their situations have been reversed Quatre would not reveal all when those abilities might mean the difference between survival and death. It would take time to win Marquise's trust, particularly as his current employers appeared to have determined to remove him.

"Sir?"

They had completed their tour of the suburbs and were entering the light industrial sector, he noted. It was time to meet Rashid's people.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	44. Chapter 44

Hi

Hope the new year coming treats you well. Its a touch less than 4 hours to the New Year in Australia so I'm taking this chance to post to say bye to the old year and hi to the new year. Hopefully I can get more writing done in 2009 than I managed in 2008... or at least as much [sigh].

Happy New Year.

Karina

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Shadow, Memories Minor to Bad Night, Wind, Fire Word count: 2,153

Series: Friends 44/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries -wing-diaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Zechs, Relena and Heero

Chapter 44

Marquise had said little through the night in their presence and Duo was notably quiet. With Maxwell so uncharacteristically silent Heero found his hackles up, his nerves on edge and a deepening sense of discomfort feeding his suspicious glances towards the doorway against which Wu Fei sat.

Trowa sat closest to Maxwell, silent as was his want until spoken to. Nothing unusual about that, though Heero did not miss Trowa's small glances between Duo and the tent where Marquise watched all from his shadows. Chang sat between himself and Trowa, surly, glowering and characteristically out of sorts. He was an odd one, Chang Wu Fei, pretty much a law unto himself on a mission, but then they who shared the common past of having piloted a Gundam were all 'something different.'

In that category he had to include Zechs Marquise.

They were a unique group, the elite mobile suit pilots of their day. There were others out there, of course, top pilots who survived the war and struggled as best they could to make their way through this new world of peace. Marquise had held his own against the Gundams, whether he was flying a Leo or that antiquated forerunner of mobile suits, Tallgeese, or the demonic Gundam Epyon. Heero payed honour where it was due and he would not deny Marquise could hold his own against a Gundam pilot and, it appeared, he was just as capable of becoming friends with one.

Duo certainly seemed hyper aware of any small sounds of movement that came from the shadowed tent.

The man lying in there was Relena's brother, but the siblings were estranged, barely speaking to each other since Zechs had departed for Mars. He had not known what to expect from the brother and sister, after all Zechs was technically the Crown Prince of Sanc and should be King. Relena ruled as Princess, though Sanc was a constitutional monarchy and as such was rather archaic in this modern time. Sanc was a part of the one nation that was the Earth, though borders were still on the map and countries were still identified as they had been for hundreds of years.

Where was the sense in that arrangement?

Heero admitted to himself that he could not see the current system working in the long term. Eventually the tottering deck of cards they were building would tumble. Someone would make a fatal slip and the whole deck, so precariously balanced, would fall. Who then, he mused, would gather up the cards and make something new?

Earth was a political power house in a state of constant flux. There were too many factions intent on interfering with each other and hindering advancements. Parties and factions changed their allegiances the way he changed his socks. Conspiracies abounded on Earth and in the Colonies political structure as well, and it seemed to him Relena was always attending to some crisis or other.

She had little time to wonder about a brother who seemed to care little for her.

How much of that was fact on Marquise's part and how much of it was deception by design?

Heero was not a trusting soul and he wanted to talk to Zechs, to sound him out on what he thought of his sister and learn what he had been doing since his return from Mars. Relena had had hopes of getting to know her brother, of them perhaps becoming a family and it had not taken long for Milliardo to destroy her dreams of a family.

Relena was angry and at the moment Heero was uncertain if she wanted to do more than hang, draw and quarter her sibling.

It was, of course, because of Noin.

Relena liked Lucrezia Noin and had entertained dreams of having her for an older sister, so certain had she been that Zechs would marry the woman. Relena had not taken well to the destruction of her comfortable family dream.

Noin was, in Heero's opinion, a mess since their breakup and he would like to have known what had been said between the dark haired firebrand and the Prince of Sanc. He had heard enough of Noin's rants in the last two years to know there was more to know about the story and he was heartily tired of hearing what a cold hearted bastard the 'Prince of Pricks' was in Lucrezia Noin's opinion.

The woman had a vicious tongue when her ire was raised and Marquise appeared to excel at stirring her up, even when absent from her life.

On learning of their breakup Relena had had a few choice words to say about her brother breaking the woman's heart and dashing her hopes of calling Noin 'sister'. Through all of the fireworks there had been, remarkably in Heero's opinion, no comment from Zechs. The man had remained stoically silent when Relena had demanded answers and since had become conspicuous by his absence. No doubt he preferred the peaceful life and avoiding the women in his life afforded him that at least.

Having survived the initial fireworks and now survivor of the long episodes of icy silence, cold anger and frigid glares whenever Marquise chanced to be mentioned, Heero had stood on the side lines and wondered why any of them were still alive and what had their best efforts been for?

It certainly did not appear to be to find love and settle down to start a family.

They, all of them, the Gundam pilots and those who had played major parts in the war, seemed to make nothing but an ongoing mess of their lives.

He was interested in this man's sister and what did he really know about the man who wore the name Zechs Marquise? Other than he preferred to be Zechs, that much was obvious; and having a window seat into Relena's life Heero could not say he blamed Zechs for choosing not to be Milliardo. The life of royalty was not an easy one and yet it was into that exclusive world of position, prestige and utter lack of privacy that Heero verged on entering.

He wanted Relena. He wanted to be with her beyond the strict divisions of a bodyguard, or even being her head of security. He wanted far more than his work permitted him and to have her he acknowledged he needed to pay a price. The price of giving up his freedom and submitting himself to the goldfish bowl she lived in. He would have to be the one being guarded, not be the one doing the guarding.

He was well aware it would not be an easy role reversal, but he acknowledged the truth that if he wanted the feisty woman who was changing the world on a daily basis, then it was a fate he could not avoid. Heero Yuy had to become a part of her world, or step back from her and let her move on.

Much as Zechs Marquise had decided and accordingly stepped away from Noin.

For her own good.

But why had he made the decision?

Heero was no fool, and he was certainly not blinded by love or anger.

He had not taken long to evaluate the relationship and equate Zechs and Noin to his own situation with Relena. It had not taken him long to come up with a viable explanation of the man's actions, which the female of the species appeared to ignore in favour of lambasting Zechs. Given the man's past Heero could understand why Zechs had seemingly abandoned Noin, stepping away from her and forcing her to give up on following him.

Marquise was not afraid of making hard decisions and living with the consequences regardless of what they might be.

For whatever reason drove him, Marquise had done it, cut the strings that bound him to Noin and he had succeeded. Lucrezia Noin gave every appearance of hating him, though in the depths of her anger Heero suspected there was a great deal of love driving her anger and hate.

Surely only love could give rise to such vehemence?

He had learned a great deal of emotion and how to suppress it under the not so gentle tutelage of Dr. J. He preferred not to think of the training he had endured; training which was crumbling beneath the onslaught of a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

Forcing himself back to the present Heero watched as Chang set his mug by the hearth, turning his hands to gather in the warmth; product of all of Maxwell's labours in getting the fire started. It was surprisingly warm in the tiny room, despite the door being open, and personally he was thankful they had the chance to get warm and have hot soup before they retired. His own mug was almost empty and cooling rapidly.

How they had all squashed themselves into this space he did not know, but even their combined body heat made little difference to the overall comfort of the air. It was warm while they huddled so closely around the flames but when they returned to the other room they would freeze. The wind still howled beyond the tent, the storm, though lessening in ferocity, still covering the mountains with killing force.

It would have been an uncomfortable night had they pitched tents and waited the night at the helicopter.

He noted movement within the tent and his attention focused back on Marquise. Something was wrong with the picture he had expected to find of the man in there. Something bothered him and he could not quite put his finger on it. He nursed his cooling soup, paying little attention to the quiet conversation around the fire, of which Marquise took no part in, and watched the shadows in the tent.

Something was off… something…

He mastered the urge to stiffen as realization hit him. He watched as the man raised the cup to his lips, pale hair a glimmer in the darkness, a crack of the fire punctuating a flare in the light as the fire danced in a draft and showed him the silver glimmer of pale blonde hair and a raised, bandaged arm.

The man was raising the cup to his lips with his bandaged hand and he was showing no discomfort.

Eyes narrowed, Heero flicked a glance around the group. It appeared he was the only one watching the Prince of Sanc in his nest of shadows. He was the only one to have noticed what Marquise was doing and realise what was wrong.

Given the injuries he had noted on the video Duo had shown them of Marquise's condition on his arrival, Heero would have expected the man to be flat on his back and almost incapable of movement. He had been formulating plans to make a stretcher out of saplings and blankets in order to move Marquise in the light of day, not an easy walk to the helicopter given the man's greater height and weight.

Something was very wrong if Marquise was using that arm so freely.

Of course all that blood might have made the wounds look more severe than they actually were, but Heero had allowed for that. Maxwell had briefed them on the treatment he had given and, now that he thought about it, nothing had been said about frostbite being a problem. Either Marquise had not been languishing in the cabin for more than a few minutes before Maxwell's arrival, or something was…

He wished the lighting in the tent was a little higher, just enough so he could be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt what it was he saw, but he was fairly certain. Marquise was not as seriously injured as he should be, given the evidence of the video. Duo had been thorough when he had recorded the crime scene and Heero had seen enough to judge the extent of those injuries.

How could the man function so well? He moved his hand and arm as though there was no discomfort at all, almost as though there was no injury, or it had been healing for a week or more. No one healed that rapidly… unless…

Dr. J had not been the only one with access to advanced cybernetics.

No, not cybernetics. No one would dare implant the old aristocracy of Europe with cybernetics. Cybernetics would account for advanced strength and speed, physical enhancements Heero himself had undergone, and while strong Zechs had never demonstrated anything which had led him to believe the man had been modified.

Not cybernetics, but perhaps the infinitely more complex cybergenetics?

//Did Oz modify him? There was nothing in his medical records to suggest modification… Classified? What the hell is going on?//

He could feel eyes on him and dragged his gaze away from the tent, finding himself beneath the scrutiny of a pair of intense violet blue orbs.

End

Karina Robertson 2008


	45. Chapter 45

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Red Tape Minor to Veteran, Shadow Word count: 2,097

Series: Friends 45/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Heero, Wu Fei and Trowa.

Chapter 45

Trowa decided Maxwell had a glare on him to rival Heero's patented death glare. Something was up between those two, something more than the tension that had existed between them for months now. Whatever it was it was fresh lit and had been in evidence for the last half an hour and Trowa was beginning to worry, and was in no small way annoyed at the pair of them.

One minute all was well, they were sitting around the fire rather like they had in the past, sipping their soup rations and almost reminiscing about various incidents during the war. It had been almost companionable, but then something had ignited between Yuy and Maxwell and Trowa was not the only one to notice.

Chang was doing his own share of glaring, a little more heatedly at Duo if anything, but shooting the odd fiery glare at Yuy too. Neither had said much, seemingly content to restrict themselves to the glaring contest, and Trowa hoped it would not ignite into anything more. He knew what Heero wanted and he knew Duo would not agree to stand in on Relena's security contingent. Someone, one day soon, was going to need to get that message across to Yuy and make it stick. The man could be as thick as a brick some days.

They were all veterans, all of them older by nature than by physical age, having seen too much of the hard side of life during the wars. They had been partners, some closer to each other than to others, but they had all been Gundam Pilots and shared that common bond. They had been the ones to share the victory and come from it not merely as survivors, but as heroes; had they lost the war they would have been branded terrorists with prices placed on their heads.

Not even the pacifist regime now in power could ignore war crimes.

They had enjoyed celebrated hero status in the public eye and endured countless sessions with psychologists and officials from government departments demanding to know the ins and outs of their Gundams and the people who had constructed them. None of them, to his knowledge, had revealed more than the barest minimum of what they knew, each choosing to plead innocent of knowing the deeper details of their respective Doctors and the group backing them.

Their catch cry was that they were 'just the pilots.'

They knew they had not fooled those who interrogated them, but they had enough friends in high places to ensure they were not tossed in the nearest cells and the keys thrown away. Those of their group who worked for Preventers were possibly the safest of their group. The government could keep an eye on their daily activities, and be relatively assured they were not planning insurrection in the shadows.

Duo, of course, was the one at most risk. Quatre had Winner Enterprises to protect him; the government was careful about messing with a corporation that had its fingers into so many vital areas of the ESUN. Quatre ran himself ragged maintaining the corporation, and Trowa supposed they deemed him too occupied to be a threat.

It was Duo who was the loose canon. He had not settled down to an occupation the government would approve and he was visibly restless and unsettled on a daily basis. A potential disaster waiting to happen.

That Duo was with Quatre most often Trowa suspected was the only reason he had not been gathered in for further questioning. As frightening as it was, it would not surprise him one day to realize that he had neither seen nor heard from Duo for weeks and find himself wondering if it was Duo on a walkabout, or if there was a conspiracy to place Duo in detention. There were some cases he worked on for Preventers that would demand his attention sufficiently for him not to realize how long Duo might be missing.

It was worrying.

0000000000000000000000000

Maxwell, as usual, was glaring at Yuy and the two looked close to raining blows at each other. The silence, which had been companionable and reminiscent of those days during the war when two or more of them had chanced to be together, had diminished to an uncomfortable and pregnant silence. At any second the two could snarl and go for the other man's throat and Wu Fei decided he had had enough.

He was cold, despite the fire and the warmer glow of the soup he had eaten. He was never fond of winter and the snows of Sanc were trying at the best of times. Being trapped in the snow with a pair of idiots who could not share a fire without glaring death at each other was not his idea of the ideal evening.

Barton was aware of the tension building and looking between the two as though he actually considered stepping between them. That, in Wu Fei's opinion, was tantamount to the desire to commit suicide. He had had enough of the two, of Maxwell's refusal to settle down and get the government watch dogs off of all of their backs. While Duo persisted in his restless inability to choose a path for his life they all would be watched and distrusted. No one would forget they had been terrorists, even though they were accorded the status of heroes.

Government red tape would never write them off as harmless, but they could at least keep a low profile and prove themselves useful to the powers that be. It would only be a matter of a decade or so before the parliament would lose interest in them and they could vanish quietly into the masses. While Maxwell resisted the 'normal' everyday activities of the world, as pursued by young men of their age, they would never be able to step aside into the shadows and anonymity.

His stubborn refusal to at least show a normal facade was stopping the others from earning anonymity points and quietly slipping away.

Not that he could not understand why Maxwell refused to accept Yuy's proposed position as bodyguard to Relena Darlian. Wu Fei totally understood and agreed with Maxwell's revulsion of the position. He would no more accept it than Maxwell, and he had informed Commander Une of that fact not so long ago, when she had approached him over taking over the position for a time.

He suspected Barton had also refused.

There was too much involved in guarding the Princess of Sanc; too much formality and way too much red tape for his liking. It would bring him to the forefront of attention and not permit him to quietly slip into the shadows of obscurity. Why Yuy wanted to pursue the woman on more intimate terms he would never know. To his mind that was begging for those interested in their activities to take action against them. Surely they would not wish their 'Peace Princess' to be on the arm of a notorious terrorist?

The man was a raving lunatic.

What he should do was knock the pair of them unconscious, tie them up and go to bed. At least that way he might get some sleep in this hellishly cold place.

They were all idiots, and so was he; an idiot for caring when no one obviously cared about him. Could they not just call it quits and go to sleep like civilized people? Perhaps they might wake more sociable and far more sensible than they currently were, and everyone might agree to lie low in plain sight until the focus shifted to other people. Much as Marquise appeared to have done.

He had to admit he had not thought about the man for years. He had known Marquise had returned from Mars and he had thought briefly on him when Noin had begun slanging him after their break up. He had, after listening to hours of her bitching about the 'cold hearted lying bastard' decided Marquise must have finally come to his senses and realized the onna was a foul mouthed fishwife.

Her anger was beyond any reasonable grounds surely? She must be unstable psychologically and surely Une would pack her off to a psychologist if she did not settle down soon?

However, it was not Noin who required his attention. It was Marquise and the need to get him off the mountain. Given the video Maxwell had taken the man would be in no condition to walk to their helicopter, so it was more likely they would need to dig Maxwell's out of the snow bank it now was and ensure it was still capable of flight.

"We will need to be up early to dig out your machine, Maxwell. It would make sense to use your helo instead of hiking down the mountain."

0000000000000000000000000

Chang had broken the uncomfortable silence and with mention of the task to come Heero might find a way to get them out of the room and to bed so he could speak with Duo and Marquise. He needed a few questions answered and undoubtedly Marquise held those answers. How much he had shared with Maxwell remained to be seen, but Heero was not inclined to miss the opportunity to learn what he could.

The blue-violet eyes still bored into him and he returned the glare with equal intensity. He had no idea what the others might think of their staring match, but he was not particularly fussed about them. He and Duo were long overdue for a talk and though this was hardly the time or place, it did not matter. Whether it was about their future, or about what was going to be required to get Marquise down off the mountain, they would need to talk.

He could understand why Duo would not want to take up his position as Relena's Chief of Security but honestly, it was not as bad as everyone seemed to think. He had put in the hard yards and had the team operating at a fine tuned level. Everyone knew their job, and was good at it. All he wanted was for someone to take up the reins and keep a finger on the pulse while he determined if it was possible for him to get any closer to Relena than he already was.

He was not blind. He was well aware of how people looked at the Gundam Pilots and considered them leashed, but still rabid, dogs. Certain people would not want their precious princess to associate on a personal level with him. He had to weigh the pros and cons of the situation and decide one way or the other.

Chang wanted to fade into the background and disappear, slip free of the dogs always sniffing in the background and find some kind of normal life. Really normal, he knew, was far from the lives they all lived. Duo was the most honest of them all, refusing to take what was offered just to get the dogs off their backs, but they had to do something to break free.

He liked Relena, really liked her, and he wanted to know, one way or the other, if he could have more than just a friendship with her. Marquise had chosen to free Noin and not flinched from that choice, though Heero now supposed the man would need to make yet another life change. Who ever was out to get him would try again.

Marquise would have to resolve the matter before it was resolved for him with a knife in the back.

"It would make sense for us to go to bed and deal with the details of getting off the mountain over breakfast," Heero broke the locked glare, looking deliberately to Chang and then Barton. "I will take first watch and keep the fire going. We will be more comfortable with the fire burning, and I am not trusting there are not others out in this weather."

"I'm not sleeping with that blazing. It'll spark on the tent and we'll go up like a torch." Duo snapped.

"I will keep the flame low and watch for sparks, so will the next to follow me on watch. Barton, you take second watch, Chang you third. Two hours each. Maxwell can take the last."

"Be sure to scratch on the tent before you open it." Duo glared at Wu Fei. "If I don't shoot first and think later, then Zechs is likely to. Either way, you'll have a hole in you."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	46. Chapter 46

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Information, Games Minor to Shadows, Fire Word count: 1,953

Series: Friends 46/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Zechs, Relena and Heero

Chapter 46

It was eerily silent in the small room. The wind still blew hard against the walls of the cabin giving rise to a continual chorus of creaks and groans, and the general impression the structure could come crashing down at the next gust. The fire cracked and spat and Heero reached out to flick an ember from the tent as he watched Duo.

As had been decided they had separated, Barton and Chang making their way into the larger room to make their final preparations and crawl into their respective tents for what rest they could get. Duo had, after one last penetrating glare, crawled into the tent to speak with Marquise, leaving Heero to poke at the fire. It was a delicate balance Heero would have to achieve, to keep the flame low but the coals generating a respectable amount of heat.

Heero decided he understood well enough why Maxwell had allowed the fire to die before withdrawing into the tent for the night with Marquise. The wood sent off sparks that would very quickly turn the little room into a death trap if it was left unattended for long.

Movement in the outer room had ceased a while ago as Chang and Barton settled down and Heero waited patiently for Duo to emerge from the tent. He could just make out the low murmur of voices carefully gauged to ensure he could not differentiate any words spoken. This time Duo would not put him off, he was certain of that, and at the moment he was probably reassuring Marquise that none of them would put a knife in his back, or deliberately feed the flame and burn them out.

Marquise had to be a paranoid bastard given the life he lived. Heero was paranoid enough for three people, or so he had been told in the past, and he had not attempted to drop a space fortress on the planet. Given this most recent incident of abduction and attempted murder, Marquise would likely lift his game to the point where there would be an increase in the sudden death rate.

That the man was more than capable of killing Heero did not doubt, but he did have to wonder if Zechs would lose sleep over those killings. Despite the Libra incident and the rumours surrounding the Black Opal, if Marquise was indeed that secret operative, Heero did not think Marquise was a cold, calculating killer.

Though Marquise might well make an exception for the person who had so recently tried to execute him.

//Not that I would blame him, I would certainly go after them before they tried again. However, it is possible it will be Preventers who will be expected to hunt him down, and Une would know him well enough not to send regular agents after him. They would not stand a chance. If she were serious about rounding him up and taking him out it would be Barton, Chang and I she would assign to the hunt. How am I supposed to get closer to his sister on a personal basis if the people I work for are hunting her brother with orders not to be too shy about shooting first and asking him to surrender later?//

He did not look up as Maxwell slipped quietly past him and into the other room. In the wake of Duo's passing Heero could feel eyes on him, a silent intent stare he felt was devoid of malice. The eyes on him would mirror patience, interest and not the slightest trace of fear.

Turning his head slightly he waited for the glare from the fire to leave his vision and eyed the open flap and the darkness within the tent. There was insufficient light with the fire banked low to illuminate more than the open flaps, so he could not see the occupant of the tent, but he could feel that powerful gaze centred on him. A quick glance at the entrance to the larger room to ensure Duo had not paused in the doorway and Heero edged a little closer to the tent, inclining his head to make it obvious he was intending to speak to Zechs.

"I know you are not as damaged as you should be from what you have experienced. Was it Oz that modified you? Cybergenetics? Perhaps a nanobot implant?"

For a long moment the silence hung heavily in the air and Heero waited, tense, half expecting a knife to be flung at him, or something as potentially deadly. He was inclined to think the man would talk first and kill later. Zechs Marquise, in the past, had proven he would not kill unless the need was there. Heero had few illusions as to what the former Prince of Sanc was capable of, given his level of training. If not for his early rearing as a pacifist the man had the potential to be a cold blooded bastard.

He was not cold, however, as had been proven in the past. He had a lot of passion and drive and Noin should have had more sense than to have believed what ever it was he had told her to incur her wrath.

"Nanobots."

So he would talk. Heero was relieved, but how long before Duo returned? How much had he told the braided one? How much would he be willing to tell Heero? Perhaps the suggestion of common ground might loosen the man's tongue?

"Dr. J implanted me with a nanobot series. I recognized the signs of healing in you after watching the video Duo took. You need not be concerned I will mention the implant, I have my own secrets to keep."

It was obvious to Heero that Marquise would not want anyone unauthorized to know he had been modified. Heero had admitted to being modified but was uncertain how giving Zechs would be in return with any information on any additional modifications that might have been made. He had received other questionable modifications by Dr. J at the instruction of Dekim Barton, and he did not feel particularly inclined to real off all of his modifications simply to get that information. He assumed Zechs would share the same reticence.

In all honesty he was astounded someone had dared to play with the genetic make up of one of the old aristocracy of Europe. From what he knew by associating with them in the circle that moved about Relena, beyond the odd bit of cosmetic surgery, they were fiercely protective of the purity of their bloodlines.

"Much appreciated."

"Can you tell me anything about what happened? Give me any clues as to the identity of the one who abducted you, or what, or who, was behind it?"

"No, and to be frank, Mr. Yuy, it is better none of you know what little I do know. I find ignorance to be safer."

Heero scowled, hardly surprised, but if he could gain some little information it might help them to decide what they were to do when they returned Zechs to civilization. There was obviously a conspiracy involved in this assassination attempt, and it had undoubtedly been meant to be an execution.

"We are not rank amateurs and our training has been extended and expanded upon since joining Preventers. We could be of use to you."

There, he had hinted they might not side with any investigation which might be forthcoming. Chang need not know he had hinted they might not be so cowed as they had attempted to lead their watchers to believe.

"Believe me the less people involved in this matter the better. Why should you chance your opportunity to escape the watch dogs by no longer keeping a low profile? You have other matters to attend to and I am more than capable of dealing with this inconvenience. I am warned and I will not be taken so easily a second time. How is my sister?"

So he knew how they lived and why they did what they did. The man kept his fingers on the pulse of the world and an eye out for those he held interest in.

"I believe you know that well enough. Why should I waste my air telling you what you already know? You are always aware of where she is and what she is doing."

Heero had expected a polite refusal and he was uncertain why he had made the offer, but something within compelled him to make Zechs understand what he was offering, even if he did not himself understand exactly why he made the offer. If he had been in Marquise's place he certainly would have desired to deal with the matter himself. There were a great many similarities between himself and Marquise and, curiously enough, Heero did not hold ill will toward Zechs Marquise for their mutual past.

He respected the other man.

It had been war and they had been equals on different sides of the conflict. They had found in each other a test for their individual resolve and their purpose in life. They had been, in a sense, 'best enemies'.

"Knowing her schedule does not give me the information I desire. I know her schedule well enough and what company she keeps, but I would know how she is."

"Healthy enough; active and tired of being pursued by the uber-wealthy, aristocrats, the famous, and the infamous, and by the media."

He heard the deep rumble of amusement from within the tent and huffed softly, but it was true. Relena was tired, thoroughly sick of the attention focused on her. She was constantly being distracted from what she saw as her responsibilities to the people by the attention focused on her. Personally, Heero though it was about time she looked for something for herself other than work. Hence, his decision to attempt to get closer to her, though he was uncertain if he would be good for her.

That was why he wanted Maxwell to stand in for him.

He was not an easy person to live with, nor was he a fool to consider himself God's gift to women. He had been trained in the social graces, but that did not naturally give him ease in polite society. He was more inclined to want to jam his fist into a courtier's face than stomach the drivel they spouted. He did not like the games they played and he was firmly convinced, after so many years of guarding Relena, that those at the top did not know how not to play games.

In that elitist circle every word, gesture and deed held ulterior motives. The players spent their days and nights attempting to accurately determine what those motives might be and who might benefit the most; and if it would behove them to join in and perhaps gain some personal profit.

"Your sister is becoming adept at surviving at the top."

"Yet she has not lost that which is essentially Relena," the deep voice whispered.

"No, she has not. She still cares too much for others and not enough for herself."

"You should never want her to change, Heero. It will be a sorry day for the Earth Sphere if she does."

Heero grunted softly, not so certain he wanted Relena to continue to extend herself as she had been. There had to be limits and it would be his place, if they could co exist as more than friends, to place those limits in a manner in which she did not chafe at the restraint and resent him for the influence he exerted.

It would not be an easy dance, but it would have to be executed with grace and patience.

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	47. Chapter 47

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conspiracy, Anger Minor to Fire, Assassination, Tradition Word count: 1,861

Series: Friends 47/??

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs, Heero

Chapter 47

The fire spat and an ember arced out of the hearth to land on the tent. It broke the silence and stillness within the room. Heero reached out and killed the ember, checking the small burn hole in the tent. It appeared there was a reason Maxwell always sat near the entrance to the tent. He was beginning to wonder about the wisdom in keeping the fire alive, but none of them would hold the watch for more than a couple of hours and they were not rank amateurs. They would not sleep on their watch.

He had not expected Marquise to be forthcoming over details of his current occupation, or about any modifications that might have been made in the past. How extensive such modifications might be remained a mystery, but the existence of nanobots suggested there might be more. He, like Marquise, would not be inclined to discuss the details so he did not continue to pursue the matter. There might, or not, be time later when they could develop trust enough to share their modification stories.

Might.

Should the conspiracies of governments past and present not see one, or more, of them in the grave.

"How much does Duo know?"

Maxwell could not have failed to notice the accelerated healing rate of someone whose body was equipped with a nanobot series dedicated to preserving a healthy state of the human body. Marquise's wounds had to be healing at a rate that would draw the interest of someone a great deal less attentive and intelligent than Maxwell, and Duo would certainly have drawn some conclusions.

"Of the modifications, he is aware I have the benefit of nanobot implants. Of other troubles he knows little, and he is aware that his ignorance of these matters is exactly what will keep him alive. He also knows it would be judicious of him to make his presence scarce and go to ground for a time."

Heero scowled, glaring into the fire with an intensity that would have frightened most observers. Duo knew too much then. It was clear Maxwell had asked questions and he had garnered sufficient information, little as that would be given Marquise's reputation, to make matters of survival delicate. How good Marquise's resistance to questioning might have been when Duo first located him had to be considered questionable, and Heero knew just how annoying a son of a bitch Duo could be if he wanted answers.

Those who professed to control Marquise would no doubt consider the likelihood of Marquise speaking out of turn, and come up with a kill first and worry about it later directive. There would be no shortage of employees they might call on whose portfolio covered the hiding of bodies and providing convincing scenarios for unexpected deaths.

Duo was no fool and would be well aware of what might befall him, but he was likewise no coward and had confidence in his abilities. Maxwell did not run and hide when it came to a game of life and death, after all, his favourite adage was 'I might run and hide, but I never tell a lie.' To Heero's knowledge Duo hid just about long enough to learn every detail pertinent to his situation and then he tended to reappear with guns blazing.

Was Marquise aware of that?

This situation had the potential to turn messy quickly.

"He won't do it."

A deep sigh from the tent answered him and he heard Marquise stir. "On this matter, Mr. Yuy, in this particular instance, I can assure you that he will."

Heero's scowl deepened. What made Marquise so certain of that? If Duo Maxwell went to ground, and Heero admitted to himself it would be judicious to make ones self scarce, then Heero would certainly not acquire his agreement to bodyguard Relena. He had to ask himself why someone like Duo would agree to hide? Heero admitted he knew less than the tip of the iceberg, but he had to wonder just what it was Marquise was embroiled in if he had convinced Duo Maxwell, the daredevil pilot and possessor of the world's most restless feet, to stay out of the way and hide until it was finished.

"That does not sound like the Duo I know."

"Perhaps it is not the Duo you know, or think you know. The Duo I have conversed with over the past few days is a young man who thinks about what he wants out of life, and marks what he has already lost. Your friend has a great deal of intelligence and the will to use it, for all he wears the jester's mask. I have learned in my colourful life, brief as it has been, that one should beware of those who wear masks; be it a jester's or otherwise. I am sure you know it would be a mistake to underestimate him."

"Hnnn."

"You and your friends are most fortunate in that you have the opportunity to break free of the system. I believe Duo is not one to play the games of those in power; his nature is too straightforward. Given the likely events to come in the near future, I would suggest you do not rock the boat and keep yourself and your friends clear of this matter. I shall deal with it as expeditiously as possible."

"Relena..."

"Will be kept out of the matter. She would be best served to remain ignorant of the continued games by those who have no qualms about killing, or world wrecking, if the occasion suits them." Zechs' voice was low, a growl more than anything, filled with warning and menace. "My sister has a great deal of good to do for the people of the ESUN. She does not need to concern herself with matters of such a sordid nature."

Heero frowned rubbing at his chin, feeling his fingers scrape against the bristles there. "When she finds out what it is you have been doing with your time, she will be more than upset."

The low sound from the tent could only be described as a threatening growl.

"Had I not been doing what I have been doing Mr. Yuy, you would not have had so easy a time of guarding her person. You might even have found yourself in my place now, and I assure you it is not a position I can recommend as having strong future prospects. Should Relena find out my current employment it would equate to a death sentence for her…and I will be more than disappointed with your performance."

He was not fool enough to ask if it would be Zechs coming to assassinate his sister. He was many things, but Heero was not a fool.

"I have offered to assist…"

"And the offer is appreciated but unnecessary. Given the current circumstances I alone can move against those who have made this move. I would suggest you delay your removal from my sister's entourage and keep your wits about you. If certain people are moving against me, then you can be assured Relena would not be excluded from their sights. How they might move against her, or manipulate her, remains to be seen, but it is certain not to be just about me. Consider this and determine if she will need you more as her bodyguard than as a suitor."

00000000000000000000000000000000

Duo leaned against the wall, silent and listening attentively. The voices of the men in the smaller room were low, but he could hear them well enough. If Chang or Barton was awake then they too could be listening to every word; they might have to strain a bit, given he was closer to the door, but they would be sure to hear some of what he had heard. Duo only hoped they were sleeping as they needed to keep awake later to ensure the pantry did not catch alight.

"And Duo? What about him?"

Indeed, what about him? Duo pressed his forehead to the wall, listening intently.

"What about him, Mr. Yuy?"

"It might be safer for Duo to join Preventers or Relena's security contingent than it would be for him to simply, and unexplainably, vanish."

Typical of Yuy to think of that. The man was perpetually stuck in a groove, coming back time and again to the same thing. It took a great deal of pushing and patience to get Heero onto something new and Duo was fed up with the entire Preventers and Security Service argument. He had heard enough. He was more than capable of making up his own mind about his personal future and there were certain things he had decided he would not do, no matter the circumstances which might arise.

"Hide in plain sight?" Duo slipped into the room and stepped around the fire, taking up his usual position near the opening to the tent. "I'm not joining Preventers, and I'm sure as hell not becoming a part of the peanut gallery hanging on Miss Pink's shadow."

Heero glared at him and Duo grinned wickedly, enjoying twisting Heero's tail. He and Relena shared rather a unique relationship in that Duo refused to cow tow and treat her as though she walked on air. For her part Relena considered him a novel visitor on the few occasions they met and, though he thoroughly scandalized her courtiers, Relena was usually quite happy to see him.

He suspected she even understood why he did not take up a position in Preventers or join her security detail. The girl was trapped by her bloodlines, tradition and family and knew with intimate knowledge the weight of expectation and disapproval from those in higher positions, family and friends.

"For you to simply vanish would gain as much, if not more, attention that if you danced naked in the streets on New Years Eve."

"Interesting example, Heero. Have you been dreaming of my naked arse? Maybe you can tell me why it would be more noticeable? I've disappeared before without so much as a 'by your leave' to anyone, even Kitty Kat, and I always turn up again." Duo stared into the fire. "It would be more noticeable if I suddenly went for the respectable scene and signed up with Preventers, or joined the security service at the palace. Neither of which, I might assure you, will happen. Zechs won't take any help, and I sure as hell would help him if he'd let me. If he's determined to be stubborn about it, and he is, then I might as well go and see a bit more of the world and wait to discover how big a fallout zone there will be."

"I am not about to blow anyone up, Duo, least of all the world, though there are some out there who believe otherwise. I prefer to leave those days of extremes in the past. The matter shall be dealt with as circumspectly as possible."

Duo's grin was feral. "If you were inclined to blow the bastards up I'd be the man to help you, and I would not be taking no for an answer."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	48. Chapter 48

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Firestorm, Games, Memories Minor to Conspiracy, Hair Word count: 2,624

Series: Friends 48/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries -wing-diaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge = Heero, Duo and Zechs

Chapter 48

"If you were inclined to blow the bastards up I'd be the man to help you, and I would not be taking no for an answer."

"Then it is fortunate I am not inclined to make a spectacular fireball their epitaph."

Duo smirked and glanced into the depths of the tent. "Hey, I'm not picky. I can do you a big firestorm or a tiny little puff of smoke, I don't particularly mind the size; though I have to admit the big firestorms are the most spectacular and satisfying to create."

"Always implying the target warrants the glory of so spectacular a demise, Mr. Maxwell."

Duo blinked. "There is that, I suppose, and these suckers are pricks. Okay, no fiery spectacular for the scum of the Earth."

Heero growled softly. Always the joker, that was the face Duo presented to the world.

It annoyed Heero as he knew there was far more to Maxwell than a flippant mouth and a seemingly carefree nature. Unfortunately certain persons in powerful positions were also aware that Duo Maxwell was far from the jester he appeared, and their amusement and patience were in notably short supply at the best of times. Duo was surely running out of time.

He surmised it was a survival mechanism left over from Duo's L2 days, where it was expedient you appeared harmless and, better yet, practised invisibility if you wished to survive. There were various forms of invisibility one could employ; the 'totally vanish off the face of the colony' type or the 'up front and harmless jovial nutcase' invisibility Maxwell appeared to have perfected.

Unfortunately either method could last only so long. If you made the wrong sort of waves, or got tangled up in another person's mess, you learned to extricate yourself from disaster's coils with all expediency. On L2, to be totally harmless would be to attract unwanted attention from those who sought to dominate… or take what little you had and leave a corpse to be thrown out with the garbage.

To survive meant you had to strike a balance; warn your opposition that you were not so easy to take down but let them be aware you would not cause a fuss if they left well enough alone. In certain circles it was expedient to ignore each other, though never take your eyes off the opposition, and you both might survive.

Unfortunately for Duo the war had left his identity well known and there were always eyes watching him. Certain persons in positions of power considered it their duty to keep the dangerous terrorist observed, lest he once again seek to wreak havoc on the world.

Duo was simply too distinctive to become invisible. The joker guise was not sufficient to hide him from the attention of a government all too conscious of their own faults, and bent on trying to contain within the boundaries of normality, those who had proven they would not stand by and do nothing when oppression ruled. Duo was a known identity to the masses and it seemed there was always someone who recognized him and was willing to set whispers circulating.

It would not be so bad if Duo would only cut the braid… but the thought of Duo without that chestnut rope just seemed wrong, even to Heero, who was doing his best to conform and earn freedom of a sort.

Duo's spectacular firestorms, like that cursed braid, were well remembered and those in power now, time and politics being the fickle creatures they were, featured many who had held positions of influence during the war.

It was why the other pilots trod fine lines and did their level best to appear harmless and, for want of a better word, tame. It was unfortunate but an undeniable truth; Heero silently admitted that no one would ever be able to tame the L2 dynamo. Duo was too much the free spirit to be caged.

Politics was a dirty game and Heero had seen enough of it from close quarters to sicken him, despite the war leaving him with the idea he had a pretty strong stomach.

While the pacifists still held the balance of power there were others gaining influence and rank within political factions, who were not so pacifist minded. Outwardly they sprouted peace with the best of the pacifists, but Heero was not fooled, nor were Preventers beneath the guiding hand of Lady Une.

As closely as they were watched by the government, so did Preventers watch the watchdogs.

He glanced into the shadows of the tent, unable to avoid wondering just how much of the black ops unit Marquise worked for Une was aware of. In all probability she would know a great deal. Her contacts from her days in Oz should never to be discounted, and Khushrenada had had one of the best intelligence networks of the war. No, Heero could not see Une simply dropping all ties to anything remotely tied to the object of her infatuation.

For all she had had mental issues, Une was anything but stupid. She was politically astute; a Commander to fear and respect. Of course, Une had her watchdogs too. The government was well aware of the infamous Lady Une, as well as the genteel Une who had charmed the colonists into cooperation. The face she presented in current times was that of a blend between the two personas; the ex-military Commander who knew how to get the best out of her people, and the peace minded diplomat who swayed millions.

Of course politics being what it was, no one would believe any face they presented to the world and would always harbour thoughts of duplicity. No one wanted the days of war to return. It really had to be the war that ended all wars, and to that end Preventers was formed, but there were other agencies out there who professed to work for peace and the greater good.

The trouble was that everyone had a slightly different view of what peace should be.

To that end you had the situation which now coloured the world. Everyone watched everyone else, ready to point the finger, seeking conspiracies yet afraid to find them. Fingers were poised to point but the fear someone else's reaction should be more volatile than expected kept the finger poised. No one wanted to lose advantage, and no one wanted to instigate unrest.

It was certainly not the ideal peace.

And sitting here, in this ramshackle remnant of the past in the middle of nowhere, was five of the main players in the past war that had frightened humanity into its current state of peace.

Irony in a nutshell.

Watched as the five Gundam pilots were, Heero knew they were small fry in the political ocean they attempted to navigate. They kept low key, trying to remain under the radar so that in time they could vanish into obscurity. If they could just present themselves as harmless ordinary citizens their watchdogs would relax.

//Who the hell do we think we are kidding?// Heero mused.

Relena had almost undone her budding political career advocating for the pilot's freedom. What they had was certainly not true freedom, but it did permit them to find a place in society and to make use of the skills they had acquired.

Quatre took his place as the dutiful son and struggled to rebuild an empire, until now he had regained all that his father had lost to the war, and perhaps a little more. Quatre had learned his lessons though and was careful to keep his fingers on the pulse of the ESUN. He had his fingers in many pies.

Trowa had remained with the circus initially, but it had not taken long, merely a year or two, for him to team up with Quatre and they had become more than friends. Barton had not insinuated himself in the company, instead joining up with Preventers and making use of his skills to best effect. The relationship between Quatre and Barton was more than frowned upon on L4 and so they resided on Earth and Quatre's sisters held more power on L4 than the CEO of the company.

Not that Quatre cared what others thought-if he did he would not have taken Duo under his wing.

Chang had settled into Preventers and made a name for himself. He was one of the best Preventers had to call on, and he took part of each year to instruct unarmed combat. He was primarily a field agent and he was teamed with Barton when he had joined the organization and Sally Po, his former partner, had opted to return to her medical career and now headed up the Preventer Medical Centre.

Heero himself had wandered until he found his wanderings caused more attention from the government than his presence in one specific location had, and thereafter he had chosen to join Preventers, under their badge working security for the Sanc palace and Relena.

It was far from an ideal situation for any of them, but it was what kept the wolves from battering down their respective doors, and the status quo had been maintained for some years now.

Of course Maxwell was the odd man out. He refused to settle down and allow the government to dictate any facet of his lifestyle. He had initially tried a life on L2 with Hilde and it had been a screaming failure, thereby ensuring he was not inclined to become domesticated in the near future. Heero did not know all of the details, and he did not wish to, it was no concern of his other than being the dawn of Duo the wandering jester.

He, and he suspected the other pilots, had assumed Duo would find something else to do quickly enough and settle down, allowing himself time to slip under the radar with a grand display of normality.

Really they should have known better. Duo Maxwell did not do normal. He did not know what normal was. Having had his face plastered all over the ESUN during the war certainly did not help any attempt he did make to blend in.

Terrorist one day, hero the next; and before you knew it terrorist again, though he had not done anything to deserve the title. It was his past catching up with him as, if they were singularly unlucky as a group, it would eventually catch up with them all.

No one wanted to employ a terrorist, least of all one who had been made famous by Oz displaying his capture on every colony screen and on Earth. If you were a Gundam pilot, particularly Duo Maxwell, then your employment opportunities were limited. Preventers was one of the few organizations willing to take on someone with their particular skill sets.

Heero was sure Duo considered himself to be an outcast, and he undoubtedly identified with Marquise because of it. There had to be no greater outcast than the former Prince of Sanc who was, technically, still dead.

Duo was too proud to take handouts, but he stayed with Quatre for much of the year, taking off periodically only to return. Quatre welcomed him and Duo seemed to enjoy being with the blond. Some days it simply baffled Heero what the two had in common; as far as he could see, it was nothing.

What Trowa thought of the arrangement Heero did not know, nor did he want to know. On a personal level all Heero wanted for himself at the present time was stability, and the chance to gain an identity beyond his days as a Gundam Pilot. He acknowledged that he resented Duo for thumbing his nose at the establishment and doing his own thing… and for getting away with it.

Yes, that was what stung the most. Duo actually managed to get away with his lifestyle.

Maxwell kept his nose clean enough that his watchdogs could not point the finger at him and have him taken into custody and disciplined. Duo flaunted the system with seeming immunity to the consequences, and Heero, who had discovered he could not simply float from day to day without a purpose in his life, could not understand how Duo survived each day.

Then there was Marquise, the Terror of Earth, who should have been locked up in a cell and the key thrown away. According to the popular press it was divine judgement that he had not survived the destruction of the Libra. It saved the tax payers a fortune in court costs to have the man tried and sentenced to death for his crimes.

Heero was tired and he ran a hand over his face, only too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing in the small room. Marquise was involved in something dark and shadowy, and it was now encroaching onto the small security the Gundam pilots had forged for themselves.

It did not matter if it was for the good of the people, or if it was dark and illegal, it was there and it was a problem. It would not easily go away and Heero had already offered to help him.

Why? Why did he make that offer?

He did not understand. It was so unlike the Heero he had been trying to become. The Heero the government would accept and leave alone to live a normal life, did not dabble in shady deals and offer to back up nefarious deeds. He had not even taken on the role of field agent for the Preventers, opting instead for the security service.

Why was it that at the first hint of trouble he offered to jump in feet first and settle the matter? A matter in which people were sure to die.

He had determined not to kill anymore.

He had decided to blend in and become 'one of the guys'. Become normal, not that he really understood what normal was. That was how one kept the government off one's back. The alternative was to perpetually be on the alert, waiting for government agents to find one and force one to move on, before they could close in.

"You are quiet. I expected you to have a lot to say."

He met the blue eyes, noting the violet tint that gave Maxwell away. He was tensed, ready for a fight and Heero grunted, noncommittal.

He could remember the war, though certain instances were blank. Blowing oneself to bits along with Wing tended to be bad for the memory, not to mention the body, but he remembered what was important and he remembered the pain. He remembered not belonging anywhere and being the tool of others. He remembered the first hint of there being something felt deep within him, a sense of camaraderie.

It was with Barton he had felt it the most, with Maxwell after that; Wu Fei and Winner to a lesser degree. What he had not revealed to any of the other pilots was that, after meeting Marquise, even before he had known who his nemesis was, there had been some type of link felt with the man.

What he did not know was why he was so willing to turn his back on what little he had gained from all his hard labour.

Did it, in the end, mean so little?

Or did the idea of having friends who had shared the horrors he had known, as others could not, mean so much?

"If you can not keep quiet and permit others to sleep, would you at least speak up so the mumbles have meaning!"

Duo smirked. "S'okay, Wuffers! We'll let you get your beauty sleep now. You sure as hell need it."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	49. Chapter 49

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Conquer, Shadows Minor to Wind, Flight, Memories Word count: 2,863

Series: Friends 49/??

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 49

He was not expecting to sleep, and in truth he dared not really even try. He had already woken Zechs with his nightmares when the blonde needed all the rest he could get. Nor did it make any difference Zechs had not minded, indeed he had helped…

And there begged the question, exactly how had he accomplished that?

He had been locked in his nightmare, haunted by his ghosts, by their never ending accusations; the parade of faces pursuing him… run and hide, that was his only escape from the horrors in his dreams. Somehow, amidst the chaos of his futile attempts to escape the ghosts, Marquise had appeared in the dream, seemingly large as life, and refraining from accusing him as his ghosts did.

Why would Marquise care?

There had been the offer of advice, of all things, in how to escape… no, not escape. Marquise had offered him something better than escape, something even the so called best shrinks had failed to give him. Zechs Marquise had offered a means of dealing with the horrors; of laying them to rest.

Could he really do what he offered?

Seemingly without effort he had quelled the chaos and drawn Duo out of the nightmare. He had taken control of the dream when Duo had failed dismally and he wanted to know more. He wanted to know how the man had conquered his own demons and because they were no longer alone, because the others had appeared, there would be no chance for them to talk. He would not have his nightmares spoken of with so many ears to hear.

He wanted no pity from them, or to hear them mouth platitudes. He did not want their sympathy any more than he wanted their pity, and he certainly did not want to know he was not the only one of them to be haunted by ghosts. He had enough with his own without the ghosts of others joining their ranks to torment him.

Marquise was one too many knowing what his nights were like, but then if he could help; if he had really faced and conquered his own night horrors… Duo had had enough of the wailing moans, the accusations, the pointing fingers… He had enough of such pointing fingers and whispers behind his back during his waking hours.

He'd had enough of the bad nights and wanted more of the good nights. To sleep without dreaming would be a godsend, but would it not be better to have dreams… the good sort? The sort of dreams the shrinks said were healthy for you. That was what he wanted, what he needed.

Good dreams.

Heero's silhouette against the tent kept him from even wanting to settle down. It was a constant reminder of the end to the solitude he had actually been enjoying. They would be leaving come the daylight. The flight would take Marquise away from him before they could work on this tentative thing growing between them.

He was not the only one who felt it, the first stirrings of something frighteningly close to friendship. He had been accepted by the tall blonde, accepted by someone who did not accept people easily, who, from necessity, maintained set distances. Why that distance from everyone? For his own peace of mind… or for the protection of others?

It would be a bit of both, Duo surmised. Marquise kept that carefully measured distance for very real reasons, and it had to be lonely in the middle of that island of one.

Duo should know, he had lived there too. In the past, before the solitude got to be too much, he had sought out one he had known would understand why he came. He still had that private island of solitude, but he let down the drawbridge periodically to allow Quatre in. To a lesser degree, Trowa too, but he instinctively knew Quatre would understand his limitations and not over step the mark. Quatre was always there if and when he needed him, and he would have to see Quatre again before he vanished.

He would have to disappear for a time as he had no intention of involving his friends in his troubles. It had been his decision to come out here in the teeth of the storm and involve himself in the mess Marquise called a life. It had been he who had come, and he who had meddled and asked questions when he had been warned not to interfere. As a consequence he had promised the blonde he would go to ground, but he had not said for how long or where he would go. To be honest he had no idea himself as yet what he was likely to do… other than keep his promise… for a time.

He would give Marquise only so long to deal with the matter and then he would come seeking answers if the man had not reappeared in his life.

Why? Why the hell did he concern himself so much with the affairs of Zechs Marquise?

Well darn, that was a good question, and it was one he did not particularly want to investigate at the present time. He'd have enough time to sort out the why and wherefore of the situation when he faced Quatre, because he could guarantee his friend would not take his vanishing kindly. Quatre would want an explanation and he would not be easily deceived.

How the hell did you deceive an empath? That Space Heart Quatre went on about was real enough-Duo had witnessed evidence of it often enough to know, intangible as it was, it was real. It was empathy, pure and simple. Duo was many things but he was not a fool, and he had read extensively once he had learned to read, particularly after he had joined the Sweepers. They liked their young people to exercise their brain cells and engage their intellect.

And he had always liked science fiction stories that involved psychics and weird arsed abilities. Quatre had a weird one and just maybe he was not the only one.

"Go to sleep, Duo."

The deep voice was barely a whisper, guaranteed not to be heard by Heero seated at the tent flap, even if his hearing had been enhanced by that fruit loop J. Duo scowled, just what had Heero been enhanced with anyway? Nanobots, that was apparent from their earlier conversation. Heero knew all about nanobots and that gave him something he could talk about with Zechs.

The stab of jealousy was sudden, sharp and deep.

A hand ghosted over his shoulder, a feathery touch, distracting him from his thoughts, too fleeting to be considered a threat to his personal space; given their forced close proximity that personal space was more than a little limited.

"They too are veterans of the war. They have their nightmares and their own ghosts, some more forgiving than others, just as you do. We who share a violent past are not so dissimilar."

"I don't like waking up to hear others screaming, and I'm not keen on waking others because I'm the one doing the screaming. If I don't sleep it won't be a problem… for anyone."

"It will become a bigger problem for you if you do not rest for the comfort of others. If it will help… I can ensure you do not dream tonight."

The hesitation in his voice as he made the offer struck Duo more than the actual words. 'I can ensure you do not dream'. There was something in his tone, in the breath of a whisper that carried the words to Duo.

"You can stop me from dreaming?"

That shadowy 'something' seemed to spring into being, hovering in the darkness like some… some… What the hell was it that kept his hackles rising throughout the day? Just what was it he sensed? He never actually saw anything, but he knew it was there and it was a very real threat of consequences he should avoid.

Whatever it was he sensed it had to be what marked Marquise as valuable to his handlers, to the people who professed to control him. Duo already knew, even after so brief a contact, that Marquise would choose to be controlled only so long as it suited him… and that he had no iota of doubt he could break away. A shiver ran the course of his spine and settled somewhere around his guts, inserting a claw into something vital deep inside and threatened to send him into killing mode.

He responded to the threat even as the threat turned its focus away from him, seeming to extend beyond him, seeking after something some unknowable distance from them.

"You have met me in your dream, have you not?"

Yuy moved and Duo spared a glare at his silhouette, annoyed by the distraction. That shadow he sensed but could not see seemed to contract, quivering in readiness, but it was still there, though now it felt more of a… protection. A Guardian of sorts, and that distinction surprised him. It was no threat to him and for some reason, despite that distinction, he feared it.

"Yeah. I don't know how or why… but, yeah. You were there."

"Dreams are no impediment for me, in fact quite the opposite. Once I learned to stop running from them, to face my demons and learn from them…Once I attained my own version of a Guardian to keep the ghosts at bay, things began to have new meaning. I… leaned…to appreciate certain… attributes."

"Guardian. Khushrenada?"

"Yes, Treize. He is still with me, even now. His ghost, shade, presence… perhaps in truth he is nothing more than a memory I find convenient to apply a label to. Whatever you choose to call it, he is there, where I need him to be. Keeping the horrors at bay, reminding me it is I who have control, not the demons, not the ghosts."

"Fuck, we are nuts." Duo scrubbed a hand wearily over his face.

The low rumble of amusement reassured him. "So I thought once."

"What changed your mind?"

"The fact I was, and am, still alive and functioning."

Duo sighed. "Are we really alive and functioning? Some days it just feels like… existing."

"Existing in being alive, yes, but it is not living. I consider my cooperation with my coordinators and their organization to be terminated in lieu of this incident. As soon as I clean out the cupboard I shall endeavour to begin living for myself, not merely being of use to maintain the peace."

He should not do it, but he could not help it. The question begged to be asked given the man's past and why he worked where ever it was he had worked the past few years.

"What about Relena?"

In the ensuing silence he could hear Yuy breathing and the low flame working at the charcoal, biting into the newer too dry wood. The wind howled outside the cabin and he imagined he could hear the snow falling, settling on the roof of the cabin.

"It is time my sister entered the game without an older brother as guardian. She is no longer a child and she has served her apprenticeship. There comes a time when we all must face the implications of our actions."

Duo snorted. "You'll not abandon her."

"Of course not. I merely will no longer remove obstacles in her path or choose to obstruct them to smooth her way. She can not live beneath the shadow of my protection forever. There are others who can step forward to take that place… in one manner or another."

"Heero?"

"Perhaps. The potential is there, though it may prove not to be sufficient to the challenge of her lifestyle. There are others with vested interests in seeing Relena maintain her place on the world stage… and further advance it."

"What if she does not choose to dive in feet first? I'm damned if I'd want to be a part of the political scene. Its stifling and the undercurrents are incredible."

"Sink or swim? It is Relena's choice to make. I have held until I can hold no more in my current position. She has grown in both age and experience, and she does not know I have sheltered her, but it is time she stepped out into the world without the protection of my umbrella. I will make it plain to those who have stepped into this quagmire that I have teeth and claws, and no qualms about using them. If they seek to sleep in peace at night, they had best step aside and permit me to vanish, and they shall do so not holding my sister accountable for what will happen before I vanish."

There it was again, that 'something' in his voice. There was something suggestive there; it alluded to Duo missing something of importance that was standing in plain sight, if only he had the eyes to see it, or the ears to hear it.

"And that will be?"

A low rumble, nothing amusing in it, rather a deep growl of a dangerous big cat, and he could imagine teeth bared, fangs glinting in moonlight. A night hunter stalking and determined to bring down its prey.

A warning, and Duo chose to step around the subject for another potentially as dangerous.

"Are you in any fit condition to go back? You'll be at a disadvantage."

"I have been at a disadvantage since the fall of Sanc. It is not something I am unaccustomed to. However, there are those I can rely on, if not actually trust. They do seek to improve matters in the social order and not specifically for their own gain. If they were not present I would not have remained so long. A little cleaning of the household cupboards is in order, and then one might depart."

"You're just going to walk away? They'll follow."

"There are some who might try, for varying reasons. To find me they must first ensure I am indeed alive and no, I will not simply tip my hat and walk away. My departure shall be noted by the demise of Zechs Marquise, though there will be certain people who will not believe it. That does not concern me."

"It should. You cannot exactly hide who you are. You are quite distinctive to look at."

"As are you."

"Yeah, well Oz made sure everyone knew my face. Not much I can do about it."

"There is much you could do about it. Scissors. Hair dye. Contacts. Even locking oneself away has been known to work on occasion."

Duo scrunched his nose in the dark. "Nah. Just not me. I prefer to thumb my nose at the bastards and remind them by my presence that they are a bunch of pricks… but they can die just like everyone else. I'm good at that."

"No, cutting the hair and hiding in some dark, deep hole is not Duo Maxwell. There are many ways to hide."

"In their faces, up close and personal," Duo snickered. "That's my way. So what about you?"

A slow measured breath and Duo felt Zechs move slightly, no doubt easing an ache. Nanobots could work wonders, but it would take more than a few days to heal the extent of the damages done to the man. The killer was a sicko who needed putting down in Duo's opinion.

"I shall remind them that all men must sleep… eventually." The last word was a sigh, a whisper of breath which held connotations that sent a shiver up Duo's spine.

"You know, you could be scary given half the chance."

"So I have been told in the past. Go to sleep Duo. As soon as it is light the helicopter must be dug out and it will be no easy thing to be out of here by night fall. Your friends will find it takes a little longer than I believe they are expecting to escape the mountains. You will need to be well rested to fly out of here."

"You need to sleep too. Get your strength up." He would pretend to settle and sleep until Marquise slept. "It won't be easy for you being moved either."

"I shall sleep. If you will."

Duo snorted. "Don't think I can do more than shut my eyes and rest, but if it will get you to shut up and go to sleep, I'll give that much a go."

"Then rest and if perchance you drift off, I will see you in your dreams… and those dreams will remain clear of ghosts this night."

"Why would that be? The bastards don't simply keep quiet because I want them to. I only wish they would."

When the answer came it was a sigh that might have been a zephyr of breeze that marked the first breath of wind which would lead into the terror of a tornado. There was hidden meaning in the quiet words, in the low whisper and the light feather touch to his cheek.

"The wind will blow them away."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	50. Chapter 50

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Hair Minor to Wind, Assassination, Shadow Word count: 2,554

Series: Friends 50/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries -wing-diaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 50

When Duo opened his eyes it was to the muted shadow that was daylight in the pantry, and to the sounds of movement beyond the tent. He made no immediate move, lying still and idly wondering when he had fallen into oblivion. He had slept, not for a few minutes or an hour or two only to wake screaming in terror, nor sobbing air into lungs aching with the need to draw breath beneath the smothering pressure that was a lack of air.

It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a sound and truly restful sleep.

He blinked, realizing he was staring at a fall of pale silk just short of tickling his nose. The heat emanating from the tall form lying beside him offered more comfort than the sleeping bags; his backside felt decidedly cool in comparison to his front. Sometime during the night he had snuggled close to that warmth and his body seemed greatly reluctant to move now that he was awake and aware.

Unwilling to wake the man when they did not have to stir immediately, and that was a luxury he rather enjoyed, he took the moment to luxuriate in the warmth and the novelty of feeling rested.

Yuy and the others were out there, busy bees flitting from task to task, and why the hell should he voluntarily freeze to assist them? They were intending to take his hot water bottle away and Zechs, damnable fool that he was, was going to permit it.

"...even see the helo. It's buried up to the blades and it will take hours to dig it out."

Chang and he sounded pissed.

Well, what did they expect? It had been snowing heavily for days up here and Mother Nature had been enjoying her play time. Such incidentals as the inconvenience of humans being stuck on the mountain side did not factor into her grand design. Mr. Chang Wu Fei could be as pissy about it as he liked; snowfall would hamper their plans and not simply melt away at one of his glares.

Duo sighed, deciding he really should not be avoiding them. They were his friends. He should get his backside out of this comfortably warm nest he had created and face up to the trials of the move. They were going to move. The others were determined to return to New Port City and throw Marquise to the wolves.

Then they were going to walk away.

There was no reason why they should not, after all they had nothing to do with the man, or who he worked for. This was only a job to them, an assignment. None of them actually knew Zechs Marquise the man. They only knew the man shown during the war and would judge him on that, wrongfully. It was not as though they had been any more sterling in their past performances. They had had their own private agendas too and they did not explain themselves to anyone.

Forgive and let live, that was Duo's motto… It was a pity no one else seemed to share his viewpoint and would allow him to move on.

He was as trapped by his past as Marquise.

He should force himself out of their bed. Marquises' breathing was still regular and light and he should get them to take their conversation out of the pantry and allow the man to sleep, but that would involve moving. He so did not feel like braving the chill of the air beyond his nest and entering into a conversation that would undoubtedly be as chilly as the air, if not more so. Chang had his boxers permanently bunched, a disagreeable attitude that seemed permanent when it came to Duo and now Marquise, and he really did not want to face yet another confrontation.

The truth was…

He didn't want to leave the cabin.

There, he'd said it to himself. He'd owned up to it, even if he did so only to an audience of one. He really was not interested in returning to the city and leaving this isolated haven to return to civilization.

He didn't want to go back.

Quatre tried, but some days Duo acutely felt the gulf that existed between him and the rest of the world. There was no going past the fact that he was a marked man. There was always someone out there who had to make a comment, who had to prove how big an arsehole they could be. Because of his so called friends, by nightfall, he would be back in civilization, dodging attention, trying to escape the finger pointing… and maybe assassins.

Zechs wanted him to go to ground for a reason.

"Then we had best begin to dig it out. I will restock the wood supply, we will need to return periodically to thaw out and we can rotate the digging. Someone will have to keep the fire going and monitor Marquise, though he appears to be healing well."

Heero sounded as unflappable as ever. What more could one expect though, he had a mission and that always made Heero Yuy happy. Admittedly, none of them liked to be at loose ends, but Heero jumped at anything remotely resembling a mission.

//I wonder how well he will cope with being Mrs. Foreign Minister?//

Heero would probably treat being treated as Relena Darlian's husband, and therefore a necessary piece of the Senator's luggage, with the same stoic doggedness as he treated life in general. Would it bother him? Maybe not, not if he thought of his life with the woman as a mission. It was a hard mindset to throw away and Heero had been harshly trained. It would not be easy for him to lose it entirely.

Shaking his head at his wandering thoughts Duo stretched, slowly and languidly, yawning hugely. It felt wonderful to be rested. Really rested. He had not dreamed…

_"The wind will blow them away."_

Zechs had said he would not dream, he would not live the nightmare last night. Zechs had sounded so confident, as though he could know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Duo would be spared the nightmares. How could he have known?

Duo was almost sure he had dreamt and it had been something… good? What had he been dreaming about? He was sure there was something there, and it had been far from unpleasant. It had left him feeling content and ready to face the day in good cheer, once he could convince muscles too long tense and now relaxed to move.

Damn, he was feeling good. He knew once he stirred himself he would face the day with a bounce. He was alert mentally, just feeling too content, too comfortable to move. He had not woken this alert and content since before the wars… since the first time he had sat in the cockpit of DeathScythe. Come to think of it, that was about the last time he had had pleasant dreams too. He couldn't recall what they had been about then either.

There had not been a great deal in his life that mirrored such a feeling of content.

"Did you sleep well, Duo?"

Marquise had not moved, had not even turned his head, but his breathing had deepened over the last minute or so. Duo smirked, noting the man did not appear to be any more inclined to move than he was. He didn't seem phased by having a near naked male lying along the length of his back either. Jerking away would only draw attention to how close they were and make them both uncomfortable, so Duo decided to stay right where he was and enjoy every bit of body heat he could.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It's been a long time since I had so good a nights sleep. Thanks."

"It is a great pleasure to find the good things to be found in dreams." The words were barely more than a whisper of sound. "A pleasant change of pace."

That… was an odd thing to say…

Duo stared at the pale fall of hair for a long moment then hitched himself up onto one elbow, looking down at the blonde. That shimmering mass of hair conveniently obscured his face, and Duo was sure Marquise was glad of that curtaining screen of moonlight silk. The man wore his bangs long for a reason, a convenient screen behind which to hide.

His budding question died with the rustle at the tent flap, the scratch of fingers against material and a pause, the silent request for acknowledgement. Someone was being careful, no doubt aware to startle at least one of the tents occupants might be to have an up close and personal conversation with a bullet.

His chance, for the moment at least, to question Marquise was gone, but he determined to find another chance where he could ask as many questions as he could think of… and that was sure to be a lot. He would have to try to get some answers before they reached New Port City.

"Yeah, what? We're awake."

The flap unzipped and Heero's head filled the gap. "Can you see to breakfast and guard the fire while we make a start at digging out the helo? It will go faster if we can spread the effort."

"Yeah, sure. Don't suppose you brought powdered egg and bacon did you? I'd kill for bacon and eggs just now."

"Plaspack field rations, every soldier's personal chef."

Duo stared. Was he seeing things or did Heero 'no nonsense, get the mission done' Yuy just crack a grin? And that was a joke, right? Okay, the day was off to a weird start.

"Fine, I'll sort something out to eat as soon as I deal with the necessaries." Duo waved Heero off. "Go work up a sweat in the snow."

Yuy vanished from sight and as he did so Duo sat up and indulged in a moment to yawn wide enough to threaten to crack his jaw.

"Hey Yuy! What's the weather like?"

"Blue sky and wind."

"Well, that's a vast improvement. Looks like we will get out of here today."

He listened to the sounds of movement for a moment and scratched his scalp. Looking around for his pack he considered digging his brush out to deal with his hair, but his bladder was aching and Marquise would be in the same condition. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of peeing in a bottle, nor was he enamoured of the idea of relieving himself with an audience. He'd just let the others clear out of the cabin first.

"There will likely be clouds come mid afternoon, but when the weather breaks, sometime around nine or ten I would estimate, it will be rain, not snow."

Marquise inched himself around to lie on his back and then sat up slowly and carefully, pulling one of the packs to baluster his back. Studying him Duo decided he looked better than he expected him to; the light spilling into the tent touched pale skin and hair with a deeper gold, but Duo could see clearly enough a healthier colour underneath.

There was a lot to be said for nanobots, he decided.

He heard Trowa's voice and someone, he thought it might have been Yuy, cursed. Something particularly acidy was said in Chang's voice, though Duo could not hear the actual words, but it suggested Yuy had slipped on the ice as they made their departure from the cabin.

"I'll attend to latrine duty first and then start breakfast." Duo crawled out of the sleeping bag, huffed at the bite in the air and looked for his clothes. "Are you going to be okay to be moved today, or do those little microscopic buggers need a day or two longer?"

There was a flash of very white teeth in the charming smile as Marquise inclined his head to watch him.

"I will survive the move, Duo. I assure you, I have had worse injuries and functioned adequately at need. I will, however, hoard my resources if you would permit and rest through the day, while I am able."

"You never slept well last night?"

The smile was a brief tilt of fine lips as Marquise turned his attention to rummaging in a bag, producing a hairbrush and comb.

"I slept quite well, thank you. You make an exemplary hot water bottle, one that does not, I have observed, require regular reheating. This evening will be… difficult, and I will need to govern my strength accordingly."

"Yeah. Difficult. That is one way of putting it." Duo hunted around in amongst the equipment piled to one side of the tent and tossed a bottle to the blonde. "Pee in the bottle for me, there's a good invalid."

Marquise sighed, rolling his eyes at Duo's irreverent grin.

"I'll make sure you are stretchered out to the chopper, okay? There is no need to have anyone suspect you are in better shape than you have a right to be after the treatment that psycho dealt you. Yuy won't tell the others unless he feels it is necessary, and I don't think he will mention it unless he has no other option. It might lead to someone asking him how he knows about nanobots."

"Allow me to do your hair?"

Duo blinked, head coming up and turning to pin the blonde with an intense look. Where had that question come from? Marquise had dipped his head, one hand wrapped tightly around the handle of the brush, the other fisted in the sleeping bag. The abrupt change in the demeanour of the blonde took Duo aback, but then a man's hair was sacrosanct, when one had hair as he had… as Zechs had…

It was an intensely personal thing, to permit anyone to brush your hair. He had taken care of brushing that cascading silver blond mane; he knew how silken it was when brushed to a glowing lustre. He had gotten to run his fingers through the thick mass; he knew how thick it was, how it chased his hand charged by static electricity; how it was best to apply just a little water to keep it under control when brushing.

It was like a river of moonlight and he would have liked to brush it by moonlight, the highlights would be silvered, subtle… magnificent.

Zechs had great hair.

He would not be able to touch it again after today…

"Okay, soon as we get latrine duty out of the way, but I get to do your hair… one last time."

He would let Marquise into his personal space. He would let the man touch his hair, brush his hair… plait his hair into his signature braid. He had only ever allowed Sister Helen to handle his hair… Marquise knew though. Marquise knew what the hair meant, even if they had never talked about why he grew it; why he didn't cut it off and hide himself in anonymity.

Marquise would know the hair was Duo Maxwell, every centimetre of it was representative of the facets of his life, good and bad. Marquise would know, because Marquise wore his hair long for similar reasons.

"It would be an honour."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	51. Chapter 51

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Rain, Wind, Argue, Conspiracy Minor to Hair, Bad Night, Red Tape Word count: 2,224

Series: Friends 51/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Many thanks to Katie for beating Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 51

It was proving to be a long day. A long and decidedly uncomfortable day.

Maxwell, of course, was his usual difficult self, clearly disapproving of the arrangements they were making to return them all to the safety and comfort of the city. Anyone would think the braided idiot had fallen in love with the wilderness, with the bone aching cold, the masses of snow trapping them and the howling wind that threatened to bowl them over with every step. He was so patently reluctant to abandon the ramshackle building and return to civilization that Wu Fei's mounting irritation was constantly provoking thoughts of marooning the insufferable man here.

Given the rate of their progress against the wind packed snow, they would still be on the mountain when night fell. The snow was reluctant to give up the helicopter and they were still digging out the lower half of the machine and the day was more than half over. After they thawed out and ate a third meal for the day, they would be back out in the chill for another stint of work, and Yuy would not be assisting them on this round of back breaking shovelling. While he and Barton laboured to dig out the landing struts and belly of the chopper, Yuy would be checking over the computer systems and the mechanics of the machine.

It would be deplorable luck if Winner's mechanics did not have the machine fully prepared for the conditions of Sanc and they were forced to spend yet another night in this cold hell because of negligence. He could already hear Maxwell complaining about the need to hike to the other helicopter.

There was the chance of more snow too. Clouds were gathering about the high peaks and the temperature was dropping rapidly and any more snow might well doom them to another night on the mountain and more digging on the morrow.

"Zechs says it will rain around nightfall."

Maxwell peered out at the helicopter now visible at the end of the track way they had beaten into the snow. He shivered and withdrew from the exposure of the wrecked room, retreating back into the surviving portion of the cabin and made his way back to the fire in the larder.

Barton had remained in the pantry when Maxwell had determined to have a look at their progress, feeding the fire with wood and watching over Marquise who, it appeared, was sleeping. There was no movement from within the tent and the flap was wide open, the light dim but enough to see the large form curled beneath the sleeping bag. That pale mass of hair was like a banner in the dim tent, almost glowing with an ethereal shimmer.

"It will be nightfall before we have the helo ready. I prefer it to rain rather than snow," Heero crouched beside the fire and thrust his hands close to the flames, presenting as great an area of his body to the heat as he could manage in the tight confines of the room. "At least the temperature will be warmer with rain. We need to be down from here as soon as we can."

There it was again, Wu Fei noted, Maxwell's scowl at mention of leaving the mountains. The scowl was followed immediately by a quick glance at the tent and its sleeping occupant. Marquise and his comfort appeared to disturb Maxwell far more than Wu Fei would have thought possible, given the two had known each other for a meagre few days. They were strangers, enemies during the war, and Maxwell knew just what a fruit cake the Oz pilot turned White Fang leader had been. Why did Maxwell concern himself with the man as though he was someone special?

"The weather conditions will dictate how quickly we can make the return flight. We need to pick up the other helo, and just hope there was not sufficient snow fall to bury it." Trowa observed.

Their own machine was lower down the mountain and they could only hope it was more sheltered and had accumulated less snow drift. Wu Fei certainly did not feel inclined to dig out the machine in the dark and in deteriorating weather. That would give new meaning to a 'bad night'.

"If it's buried, then it can remain buried until a recovery team makes it out here. I am not digging out a second machine in the dark. The flight to the city will be uncomfortable enough without making it whilst soaking wet and in freezing temperatures." Wu Fei rubbed his fingers vigorously, attempting to return warmth and feeling to them.

"What say we make the return flight in Quatre's helo? Just leave the other one where it is and send out a recovery team?"

Yuy scowled at Barton's suggestion and dared to push his hands a little closer to the dancing flame. They needed to return to work, but none of them was particularly eager to face the icy chill again, and it was barely fifteen minutes since they had sought the fire's warmth. They had to be wary of frostbite and while they were all keen on departing the mountains, they could not afford to rush proceedings. That way lay disaster.

Personally, Wu Fei liked having ten fingers and toes.

"We need to ready the emergency stretcher in the helo. As soon as I can get the door open I'll bring in the necessary gear to transfer Marquise to the chopper. I'll need every blanket to make him as comfortable as possible. We'll all need a hot meal before we leave and only when we are all on the helo will I send an estimated ETA to Une."

"You know what you are sending him into?" Maxwell was glaring hotly enough to melt ice.

"No, and neither do you!" Wu Fei had had enough of the dark looks and snide comments. "None of us know the truth of what is going down, but we have a job to do and we will do it. Do you honestly think it better to keep him in this death trap than return to New Port City? Face it, Maxwell, you don't know any more than we do what the truth is. That's Zechs Marquise in there, the leader of White Fang. The man who intended to drop a space fortress on the planet!"

"And that's Chang bloody Wu Fei sitting there, lording it over the slum brat who can't keep a fucking job because everyone expects him to blow the hell out of their precious lives! Chang fucking Mr. Justice Freak himself Wu Fei, who had his own moment of madness playing Little Miss Dictator's bitch!"

"Enough!" Yuy glared into the sudden silence his bellow produced. "Settle down, both of you."

"Indeed it is enough. We have a job to do and that job is surviving to get off this mountain before it is anything else. Allowing our tempers to get out of hand will accomplish nothing." Trowa handed a mug of soup to Yuy. "Sit down, drink the soup, and then we can get back to work."

The air felt like it was charged with electricity, a storm brewing, ready to break out into violence and destruction.

"That won't make anything go away or change anything." Duo snarled, unwilling to subside quietly.

"No, it will not change anything, but it will serve to warm me up and save my ears." Trowa inclined his head to Maxwell. "There is nothing we can do about this situation, Duo and there is nothing you can do about it either. We don't know enough to make any snap judgements."

The resulting silence was far from pleasant and the air was so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. Wu Fei was, however, fair enough to acknowledge that he had had his moment on the dark side of history. He had not, and would not speak to any of them on the why of his past actions any more than he suspected Marquise would confide in them as to his reasons for doing what he had done.

Somehow, in amidst the reams of red tape that was government bureaucracy, Marquise had been spared serving justice for his actions. His own salvation was being a part of Preventers, but Marquise? What did he do to salve his conscience? Did he even attempt to make restitution? Was the cold bastard too full of himself to know his mistakes and the injustices he had perpetrated on the world? Did he once give thought to seeking to earn forgiveness?

"I intend to snoop around."

Dark eyes widened and he was not the only one looking at Yuy in disbelief. Barton looked like he wanted to pound his head into the rock wall and Maxwell… well, the hope on his face was just pathetic.

"Yuy!"

"I am curious, Chang."

As though that was explanation enough for abject idiocy! Chang snorted, grasped his mug from Barton's outstretched hand and wrapped his chilled fingers around its warmth. Yuy was an idiot if he stuck his neck out and ruined his chances of fading into obscurity. There was undoubtedly a conspiracy involved in this mess; he was not a fool, he knew what politicians were like, and Yuy had no right to rock the boat they all sailed on.

"If you pry into what does not concern us, you are not the only one who will be targeted." Barton glared into the fire, pointedly not looking at anyone.

"You will drag us all down with you." Wu Fei warned, scowling fiercely into his cup, not daring to look at Yuy for fear he would fling the cups contents in his face.

"I suggest you request Une assign you somewhere far away and to a very public position. That would be best to keep you out of this. If you are in plain sight, and are seen to be doing what you should be doing, the axe is not likely to fall on your neck."

They, those men and women in power, would use any excuse to drag them down and throw them into detention centres. Being a few thousand kilometres away from trouble would make no difference.

"Why do you have to interfere? Why do you have to draw their attention to us? This has nothing to do with any of us."

"I am not so sure it has nothing to do with us, Wu Fei. They watch us, expecting us to do something at any time, even after all this time. They expect us to do something that will confirm we are not 'ordinary' or 'innocent'. The truth is we are not ordinary, they have that right. We will never be ordinary, no matter if it is our fondest wish. Do you honestly think we can just blend into normality? Become just another Joe walking down the street? We were Gundam Pilots. We were terrorists. We reshaped history and we did it in a way they can not forget. Bloodily. Messily. Violently. In plain sight of the world."

"I know what we did, you don't have to remind me, Yuy."

"Maybe I do?" Intense blue eyes stared around the fire, pinning each man in turn. "I've been denying what I am, who I am for a long time. I've tried to live by their rules, but they still watch me. They don't trust me and they make no attempt to hide their distrust. They never will. Until I'm either dead or too old to be a threat, they will watch me, just waiting for an excuse to take me down."

"The name Yuy is as much a threat as the man." Maxwell took his soup, settling with his back to one side of the tent opening to allow the heat to flow into the tent.

"If we do nothing, be ordinary, eventually they will have no choice but to accept us."

He needed to believe that. He needed to believe it, or he would have to face himself in the mirror once again and not see Chang Wu Fei but someone else. Someone he did not wish to meet face to face again. Someone who had been pathetic.

"You really believe that, Fei?" Piercing blue/violet eyes pinned him. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"I need to believe that, Duo Maxwell, or I have nothing to hold onto. Can you get that through your blind obstinacy? The world is not all about the unfairness of your life. Preventers means much to me; I have no where else to go. My colony is no more, my people are few and scattered across the colonies; no one wants to admit they came from L5. An entire culture died in that war and not at the hand of the enemy, but by the will of the leaders. L5, my home, will never be restored. I have no home; no place to go to, no family. Clan was everything. Without that what do I have left?"

"Yourself. Your friends. The chance to start something for you; for those few others who were spared obliteration if you will it."

The deep voice from the tent froze his blood. Wu Fei stiffened but he was unable to move, unable to speak in either denial or challenge.

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	52. Chapter 52

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Expectations, Anger Minor to Shadow, Wind Word count: 2,531

Series: Friends 52/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 52

"There are many things in life you can not choose and one of them is your family, Chang Wu Fei. You simply have to learn to live with the family you are born into. There is another family though, the one you can choose for yourself and whom people call friends. There are various levels of friends but the ones to treasure are the rare true friends. The kind who stand at your back and support you up when life knocks you down. The kind who don't ask stupid questions of you when the world is falling down around your ears, they simply pull their sleeves up and stand beside you while you shovel the shit into restraints. The kind of friends who are simply there whenever you need them, for what ever reason you might need them. You have been fortunate to be graced with a number of these rare friends and are most fortunate in that these friends are still alive to stand with you."

Marquise had not moved. He could see him, a distorted shape in the deeper darkness, the firelight lending just enough flickering light to highlight the mass of pale hair. The fire spat and none of them moved, no one spoke. He dared not look at any of them, just at that dark opening in the tent.

"You survived the war because it is not in you to break before the winds of fate. Your Clan Elders made a decision you did not agree with; they were your family and they did not consult you… and if they did you thought they would wait and permit you to make the difference you were certain you could make. Have you ever really sat down with anyone, Chang Wu Fei and worked out how you feel about that?"

No, he had not. He dared not for fear of the despair that would overtake him at knowing they had considered him inadequate to the task assigned him. They. The Elders of the Clan. The people who had made the fateful decision to destroy his home, to cast him adrift from the culture he had grown up with and consigned him to forever be an outcaste. He could not take them to task over what they had done; they had taken their own lives along with the colony, along with the people unfortunate enough to be there. Thousands of lives lost because they had determined they could not face change, could not face losing autonomy they might have gained back in the fullness of time.

So many lives needlessly lost. Where there was life there was hope yet they had not sought that hope. They had given up, betraying everyone. Betraying him.

"Have you considered the others who survived? Who had the fortune not to be on the colony when it was destroyed? Have you totally divorced yourself from wanting to know why they did it? Have you passed beyond the point of wanting to pay them back for the anguish, the despair and the pain they gave you?"

Shut up! He had to shut up. If the man did not shut his mouth then he would shut it for him!

"You are not the only one to lose everything, Chang. Look around you at your friends. Do you think they have not lost anything? Anyone? Do you think they have places to go, people, friends and family waiting with open arms to welcome them home? Do you think life should be fairer with you because you had a family, a home, and a culture… a history? Life does not care what you have; it is an unthinking, uncaring muse intent on invention and curiosity."

It was all he could do not to fling himself at the tent and slam his fist into what had to be a smirking mouth. He wanted to run just as much as he wanted to hit the arsehole who thought himself fit to lecture Chang Wu Fei on the fairness of life.

"We make our own life. Every breath we take is a decision to live; to defy what ultimately comes to us all. Death. We make our own decisions even as we blame others for the decisions we make. We rail against others for the decisions they make which impact on us, but how hard they impact on us depends solely on us and what we do in reaction. Life is a cycle. We are born, we live our lives and we die. What happens between the birth and the death is for us to decide."

He would not look at the others. He would not look and see that they were staring at him. He would not look. Damn Marquise for this! Could the infuriating man not just shut his mouth!

"No one in this life is the same, we are all unique and in our uniqueness we are also the same. No one has the right to think themselves better than others. You have unique skills but so do other people. None of us is exactly the same as anyone else, yet we are all the same. We all rail against fate when the unexpected and unpleasant happens to us. We all sit with smug satisfaction and feel we are on top of the world, better than everyone around us from time to time. And we all cringe in the shadows of the night and weep silent tears against the unfairness of our copious losses, as opposed to the miniscule gains we have made."

The fire flared, a spark contacted the tent and he watched as Maxwell's fingers snuffed the ember. He… would not look. He wanted to scream at the obnoxious man, but something was lodged in his throat and it was not a scream. He was afraid if he let it out it would be a sob. No, he would not open his mouth but he would jam his fist down the other mans throat to shut him up.

"The way of the warrior is not to sit idle and permit the injustices of the world to impact upon us. The way of the warrior is to fight for what we believe in, or to fight for what others believe in. We might pay lip service to the beliefs of others, but they may not necessarily be our own beliefs. Some people fight for the thrill of the contest. Others fight for a specific goal. Still others fight from fear. So many of us fight from fear and because of fear. Some fight for justice and some fight because they hate and it is a fiery need to quench that hate. Others fight for love and they are the ones who are the most dangerous, because if you fight for love there is nothing you can not accomplish. But you have to recognize what it is you love, just as you need to recognize what it is you hate."

He wished he would shut up. He just wanted him to be quiet. Why had no one told him to be silent? Why had no one moved?

"We never stop fighting in our lives. It is a fight to draw breath each day. It is a fight to recognize what our emotions are telling us. It is a fight to not smother the one we love, to give them the freedom to make their own choices in life. It is all a matter of choice, of making decisions, of deciding in retrospect if we were right or wrong. If we were wrong we have to decide if we will correct our mistake, if we will ignore it or if we will compound it."

He sucked in a breath, hiding his shaking hands in the folds of his clothing, hoping they would think he was shaking from the cold. He wanted to run but still he was held here, immobile while something dark and shadowy loomed near. It was dangerous, a threat and it was watching, waiting… for what he could not say, but it was there. Waiting.

"We usually find it was a mistake to make a decision without talking it over with someone and that someone is usually a friend. One we can trust to listen to what we have to say and to give us an honest opinion. We might talk to one friend or more, if we are fortunate enough to have more than one friend we trust on such a deep level. If we are very fortunate we might have their help in settling what disturbs us. They might see much more clearly than we do as proximity blurs the details. Keeping our own council is all very well but we need input copious quantities of input, if we are to make an informed and wise decision."

Someone in the room dragged in what sounded to be a pained breath. It was enough to cause him to lift his head, to glance across the fire and see Yuy with his head lowered, eyes on the dancing flames, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"We place a great deal of trust in others, particularly if we are soldiers. We trust our comrades to guard our backs. We trust our commanding officer to lead us safely into and out of battle. We trust our commanding officers to give us wise and informed instruction and expect those who advise our officers to give them sound and accurate information. It takes only one fault in the chain of succession to bring chaos out of order, to make a fatal move out of what should have been a walk across a field."

A small movement sent his eyes to Barton whose fists were clenching and unclenching but whose face revealed no emotion though the visible emerald eye looked too bright in the flickering light.

"When you are a soldier you have to trust others, particularly the ones you call your friends. They are the ones you would go into a fire fight for to pull them out of danger. They are the ones who would go into the fire fight to pull your arse out of the fire. When the fighting is all done it is the friends who have survived the chaos with you that you turn to and talk about what comes next. You talk about after the fighting, after the dying and when you are to start living outside of the structured order and chaos that is war. It is the friend who watches you make a mess out of your first attempt and takes those few steps closer to you to support you and encourage you to try again. It does not matter how many times you falter, they are there to prop you up and encourage you to go on, to try again."

Maxwell's hand clenched and looking up he saw Maxwell was staring at Barton and his lips moved, no sound but the shape of those lips was unmistakable. The single word. The name. Quatre.

"The smart soldier recognizes the value of friendship. He knows when to hold tight to it, when to understand the ties are a boon and when it is time to step back. On our own we are strong, for all we have our weak days. Life is survival and it is possible to survive it alone. Possible, but hardly pleasurable and far from fulfilling. It is far more satisfying to recognize we are stronger with our friends, especially if we are unfortunate enough to have no family we can trust to support us when we are low, and celebrate with us when we succeed. Then our family is our friends. If they stick by us we can conquer any challenge that presents itself to us, and we are as willing to help them stand tall as they were to help us."

This man… how could this man… this stranger… He was not a friend. He was the enemy. He had been the enemy! How could he talk about friends? How could someone like him know what a friend was?

"Those who do not know the way of the soldier, who has not themselves lived as a soldier, can never know the nightmares; can never understand the feel of blood on your hands. The politicians in their air conditioned offices can not know what it is like to wade through thigh high mud, to stare at a man face to face and pull the trigger, watching as you blow out his brains. They can not know the warmth of the blood that hits you in the face, blood that covers your hands and never ever washes off. Politicians are a world apart and do not associate their decisions with the men who have to enforce their pontificating. Politicians do not have to face the reality of their improvements for the greater good of mankind."

He was not the only one to suck in a deep breath.

"Mobile suit pilots who have not faced their counterparts can all too easily become like those politicians. You are divorced from the actual human element, from seeing another man's blood and guts and pain as he dies. It is remote, not a part of you, just some nameless metal monster you kill as you would in a computer game. Have you stood beside your wounded friend, supported him and felt his blood on your hands? Have you grovelled in the mud and gore to find out if your friend is alive; or if you live because he made the ultimate sacrifice? Have you sat on a bloody battle field with the dead all around you and wondered what the hell you were fighting for? If the people who sent you there actually knew what they were doing? Have your screamed your lungs out because it was you they sent and they hadn't the guts to do it themselves?"

Oh he was shaking, trembling like a leaf in a wind.

"It's your friends who find you then and they are no less in pain and floundering in despair than you. And because it's them, because they know, because they have lived it too… you survive it and you move on. You know it will haunt your nightmares but when it gets bad they will be there, as you will be for them. You know it for the truth it is. The politicians who make the decisions that ultimately make us bleed and kill for them have no concept of what a soldier is. Likewise, they have no concept of what a friend really is. Don't turn your backs on each other because if you don't have each other, what do you have?"

What did he have? What did he own… a few paltry possessions, enough to throw in a duffle bag. Materially he had very little and with no family, no blood to bind him to someone… what indeed did he have?

"You have friends. You have friends who need you and whom you need. Don't dismiss them lest one day you turn around and you learn you really are on your own."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	53. Chapter 53

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Shadow, Resolution Minor to Murder, Hair, Weddings Word Count 2,286

Series: Friends 53/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries -wing-diaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge = Trowa, Wu Fei and Heero

Chapter 53

The man was… right.

How could that be?

The man was right… about everything.

It was all wrong that this man should know him so well. They were strangers… one time enemies.

Were they enemies now?

He did not know this man, merely knew of him, and now, in light of words spoken around a fire in a decrepit old cabin on a mountainside, he had to wonder how accurate his thoughts of who and what Zechs Marquise were.

It surely was not possible for the man to know him so well, not when Marquise was such an unknown element to him. Unknown, an enigma… how was anyone supposed to understand a man who tried to destroy the Earth?

He just… did not understand.

It was Quatre who could read people like a book, not Marquise. It was Quatre who knew him inside and out; the dark places in his soul. It was only Quatre.

The war left scars on everyone, some people bore deeper scars than others, as was the way of war. But it was the way of war for people to be hurt, and not merely physically. Everyone who survived war was changed by it, but some people emerged from chaos profoundly changed.

Who was this Zechs Marquise? Was this man before him the same man who had fired on the planet? Who was this man sheltered in the darkness of the tent, a shadowy shape given little substance save for moon silver hair shimmering gold in the ruddy glow of the fire.

What made Marquise such an expert on him? On all of them!

Marquise made him wonder if he knew who Trowa Barton was. Did he understand himself? Did he understand why he kept the name that was not his own? Did he ever have a family somewhere in the murky past that was his life? He had no family; no blood relations that he could name. No faces from the past, no memories of people before the mercenaries.

He was… he was… a conglomerate of…. He was nobody. He had no name, he had no past, no life before conflict became his existence. No name before he took a dead man's name. What did that make him?

But he had friends and they were people he could rely on. He knew he could rely on them; trust them, because they had lived as he had lived. Just as Zechs had said. They had lived as he had, breathed as he had, survived as he had.

They understood what it was to survive.

The closest of his friends had become his lover. What would he do if Quatre ever left him? What was he without his friends? He had been solitary, alone, before he had met them. Nameless, a non entity; good for killing and nothing else. He needed a sense of identity, of belonging… a family.

A friend had become his lover and another had become his sister. Catherine treated him like a sister, claimed she was his sister; begged him to have DNA tests done to prove it; she was that sure. But he was not sure. He was afraid to be tested and have it confirmed that he was, indeed, alone, bereft of family. He was afraid to find out and that made him a coward… didn't it?

There were others though, who did not expect him to push his personal envelope of comfort. He worked closely with both Wu Fei and Heero and they worked well together. He felt secure in their presence, knowing he could trust them when they were on missions, and when they were away from work, to watch his back. They were friends he could trust, who trusted him in exactly the way he trusted them.

They understood each other and did not expect more from him than he was willing to give. Likewise he did not expect more from them than they were willing to give on a daily basis.

And Duo… Duo was different.

Quatre had refused to let go of Duo, holding on to him even when he had clearly not wanted anyone to be near. He had been willing to step back, to allow Duo to fly the leash but Quatre had been different. Quatre had let Duo go, yes; Quatre had not grappled with him and held him against his will. No, Quatre had seemed to understand Duo in a way none of the others had, certainly he had not understood what drove the braided man. He had thought Quatre to be too clingy, that he would hold Duo back.

But Quatre had backed off, though he had not for an instant left his friend. He had not abandoned him, being there when he was needed without a word needing to be spoken. Quatre had that ability to know when he was needed.

He desperately wanted to go home to Quatre.

This mission would end badly. He could feel the ominous shadows surrounding Marquise and he knew those shadows would fall upon anyone who associated themselves with the man. It was just a part of who and what Marquise was… a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Shadows… what superstitious rubbish. Leftover remnants from his days as a mercenary. They, those hard bitten men and women who had raised him, indoctrinating him into the life of war, said you could feel the shadow of Death when it was near. They claimed you could see it. You could go into a fight and know before you started who would not come from the conflagration alive.

They said many things, those long dead individuals, and most of it was superstitious rubbish designed to… what? It had frightened the socks off him when he was younger and perhaps that was exactly what they had intended to do. Mercenary bands were not for the weak or faint of heart.

They tested you, tried your resolve and your courage, your skills…. If you survived then you passed and they accepted you amidst their ranks… if you died, well. You might be fortunate enough to be buried in hallowed ground and not in some ditch in a field.

Might.

He had had enough of this. It was time to dig out the chopper and get the hell off this mountain and get that man and his disturbing insight away from him.

————————————-

What was he to do now? It was unthinkable!

He could not tell the man to shut up, he was talking drivel because… because every word he had said was true. Horribly true.

How could one who was the enemy rip his world apart with mere words?

He had always known words were powerful things but delivered in that low, husky voice these words had held great power. The truth behind them weighted each word so that they fell upon his ears with the force of a sledge hammer to back them.

How could Marquise know him? How could the enemy know him so very well?

He was the enemy. He had been the enemy during the war and he was the enemy now. That was why they were out here in the snow, because Marquise had stirred the political pot yet again and landed them all in trouble.

But… what exactly had Marquise done to earn the wrath of who ever had tried to murder him? Not that there were not enough people around who hated the man after his actions during the war. Was it left over baggage from the war? Or was it, perhaps, something new? Something Marquise was involved in that would bring about a new round of conflict, a new round of death and destruction.

Had the man not tired enough of the blood and the killing?

His fingers automatically closed around the metal mug, the warmth of the metal hot enough to remind him of how numbingly cold he was. Hot broth, field rations; wholesome if not exactly tasty and warming his innards with each sip. He did not see who handed him the cup, he was still staring into the flames.

He did not wish to look up, to see who watched who, who might watch him with eyes that knew what he was feeling. What he was thinking.

He needed to get out. He needed to get out of the cabin, away from the monster in the tent. He needed to get away from… everything.

The soup seemed to be scalding hot but he drank it as quickly as possible. He needed to go before anyone noticed he was trembling and realized it was not from the cold. He needed an excuse to leave and once he finished the broth he would get out into the snow. He could hide out there, throwing himself into mind and body numbing digging.

He could dig until his body screamed at him to stop, until his mind went blessedly numb and he needed that now. He desperately wanted not to think.

Even Chang Wu Fei could wish to run away.

The work of digging the machine out of the snow had to be done so they could get off the flank of the mountain and leave that terror of a man, that enemy, with those best suited to handle him. He could go home then.

Home… to his empty flat.

Home to his job which, if he dared to think about it, was all that he had to hold on to.

No, no. Poison. That man's words were like poison. Virulent, insidious, invasive poison.

He had to get some air. He had to stop thinking.

————————-

He had friends.

He had… friends.

It was deepest irony that perhaps his greatest friend had once been his enemy.

What was he planning to do with his life? And why? Why was he doing it?

He had considered marrying…. No, he had considered courting a woman who was from a background so different to his own that…

That he… .

Was that…?

Was that why…?

Was that all it was? Was that why he thought to court her? To marry her?

Because her life was so different to his own?

Why did he think he was good enough to associate with Relena Peacecraft? Why did he think he was acceptable in her social circle?

Was it because she had a family? She had had something far closer to a normal family life than he could ever hope to claim.

Little Miss Rich Girl, spoilt and indulged and with ideals bigger than the planet. Scion of a murdered family, unknowing of who she was; what she was, but reared with position and privileges as a Princess would have been. Her family had known who she was.

No one knew who he was.

Not even himself.

Certainly polite society did not know what to make of him. They looked at him and he knew what they were thinking. He knew what they were seeing.

Outsider. Pretender.

They were thinking he was dangerous. And they were right. He was dangerous.

They looked at him and considered him to be little more controllable than a rabid dog. They expected Relena to leash him, muzzle him, and if not tame him then discard him and put him down as one did with rabid animals.

Could the Princess tame the beast?

Even Chang had looked at him as though he was out of his mind when he had told him he was intending to respond to Relena's advances.

Why did she like him? What was there to like about him? Was he that darkly dangerous, mysterious figure girls dreamed about? Was that all it was?

If he breathed out of turn, one day, they would rip him apart and there would be nothing he could do about it.

No one would care. No one who was in any position to do anything about it would care to take action.

They were outsiders wherever they went. Few in the ESUN would truly accept them for what they were. There would always be jaundiced eyes watching them; waiting for them to falter. Waiting for them to make a mistake.

Marquise knew it and would not want his sister involved… but he had not told him not to seek out that slender chance of a life.

Why?

Why had he not told him to get away from his sister?

The man had done so much to protect the young woman, more than Relena ever suspected. He had been very careful to keep her safe, both before, during and after the war. Perhaps he was doing more now to protect her than he ever had in the past.

Marquise had made the decision to free Lucrezia Noin, to separate her from him once and for all… for her own protection. He had decided it was better for her to hate him than for her to die at the hands of those who would use her against him. A hard step to take but he had made it and he would not go back.

Heero knew him well enough to know he would not return to her.

Marquise had not told him to get away from his sister. The man had left that decision to him.

A friend offered advice and then stood back and waited. Watching and waiting, ready to offer support in what ever was decided.

He watched Barton and Chang leave, his soup growing cool in the mug in his hands. He needed to leave too. To help dig out the machine. To run diagnostics and ensure it was operational. They needed to get off this mountain, but what would they return to?

He had to get out. To think.

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	54. Chapter 54

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Expectations, Shadows, Resolution Minor to Conspiracy, Anger, Wind Word Count : 2,642

Series: Friends 54/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at http://www. /

Gundam Wing Diaries

-wing-diaries. /gw /Karina/

New website -rose. com/ karina/

[Just remove the spaces from the addresses, copy and paste into your browser if you care to visit them]

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge = Trowa, Wu Fei and Heero

Chapter 54

"You pull no punches, do you?"

Within the shadow of the tent a low grunt was his only response. Duo, seated by the fire, pinched out the occasional spark that settled on the tent. The latest gathering of wood salvaged from the collapsed room seemed determined to burn them out of the cabin, shooting sparks out at regular intervals in miniature explosions, a handy excuse to remain beside the tent. It permitted him to be close to the man who had, unbelievably, made Chang Wu Fei run.

He had thought never to see the day when the firecracker that was the Dragon would so obviously run, making no attempt to cover his retreat with excuses.

"I've never seen Wu Fei turn tail and run like that before."

"It was not my intention to make anyone run."

Ah, so Zechs could still speak. He had wondered considering the lengthy silence. Duo ran a hand hesitantly through his bangs, glancing toward the pantry door. Out there in the generally fine day, either a great deal of snow was being moved, or they had each found a solitary place out of the still howling wind to have a serious, and blessedly private, think.

He personally wasn't sure what he should do now, and he assumed the others would be no less affected than he had been by that quietly serious, husky voice.

"You know they are your friends, Duo. You know that they care for you; about you. No two people show emotion, particularly such personal emotion, in the same manner, but they do care."

He knew that, really he did it was just… just that only Quatre had seemed to make the effort to give him the space he needed. Only Quatre had seemed to understand he could not bury himself in a semblance of normality and deny himself the truth-that it was all a sham. He could not do it, but They appeared to be able to. What they did with their lives was really none of his business and they insisted on making it their business to try to drag him into their lies.

Was he being too harsh with his judgement? Probably, he admitted, but he was the way he was and they were the way they were…

"Maybe."

Faint sounds of movement suggested Zechs was shifting his position, trying to gain some small comfort when, despite the miracles of nanobot technology, his body must still ache after the treatment he had received. There was not much in the way of comfortable padding under that large body and he must have an intimate knowledge of every inch of the boards beneath the tent and sleeping bag.

"Some people do not show their emotions well, if they show them at all. That does not mean they do not have emotions or that they divorce themselves from such. It merely means they are capable of disguising themselves from the eyes of the world."

"Yeah, but… well, yeah. I know that."

He knew it. In fact he had his own problems when it came to displaying his emotions. He had a long time ago mastered the art of the smiling face and birthed the persona of the jester to hide his deeper thoughts. He claimed that he did not lie, but that in itself was a lie. It was a different sort of lie to a spoken mistruth, but a lie none the less.

"I have no doubt they will be there for you when the time comes."

Would there be another time when they needed each other? They had fought side by side together to change things, while others had fought in opposition to them; some to keep things the way they had been, others to change what they saw as injustice. Who was right? He could no longer say, not after living as he had, seeing what he had seen, knowing what he now knew.

The world, Earth, the Colonies, the ESUN itself, was not what he had thought it was.

Duo sniffed and shrugged, knowing Marquise could not see the action. He was frankly glad of the privacy. Zechs had touched on a few raw points for him, but he was not of a mind to dwell too heavily on that-at least not now. Later, when he had real privacy, when he could think without fear of interruption, would be soon enough for him to consider what he had learned.

"You distanced yourself from Noin."

The silence was long and grew heavier with each passing second, and Duo wondered if Zechs had determined to ignore him. It was a touchy subject, he knew that, and he was not sure why he brought it up. Maybe to make Zechs as uncomfortable as he was? A petty revenge, if that was the case.

The way Noin carried on about Marquise you would think blue murder had been committed instead of the break up of a physical relationship between two consenting adults. Her anger was something he had wondered about. After all, the pair had not been married although she had seemed to expect just that from Zechs. They had lived together on Mars, he knew that for a fact, but not all relationships were meant to last… and Marquise would be high maintenance. He would not have been an easy man to live with. For a simple relationship breakup her rage seemed entirely disproportionate.

Obviously Zechs needed lessons in how to break off personal relationships, but then he had meant for the break to be final, indisputable. Had he been deliberately harsh?

His silence now was not going to work, Duo decided. He would not allow Zechs to side step a conversation when he had so accurately ripped open not only his own vitals, but that of the others as well. They had limited time, very limited time actually, and he wanted to know as much of the man as he could.

Why?

He didn't have any idea what it was that fascinated him about Marquise. That he was complex, multi faceted, an intricate Celtic knot Duo knew; but just how many twists and turns made up the character of the man? It would take an entire life time to understand this man who had stepped into history in a terrible way, fully aware and understanding of the fate he made for himself should he survive his own Armageddon.

Aware and willing to bear the burden in the interests of earning a peace mankind had been unable to attain since the birth of his civilization.

"Zechs. She was your friend. Maybe the only one you could really call a Friend."

He would push as hard as he needed to, to get the man to talk to him.

"Yes, I distanced myself from Noin. It was necessary."

"Because it is safer for her."

Not phrased as a question, because he knew the answer. He had similarly distanced himself from others, even the other pilots, because it was safer for them to be apart from him. Safer for them as they attempted to engage in a normal life, when he could have nothing of the life they sought. He was the published face, the known face. The public reminder of atrocities, as Zechs was remembered too.

Zechs and Noin had seemed a feature for as long as Duo had known her, starting with onboard the Peacemillion and right through the final days of the war; through the Barton business and then out to Mars. Noin had always been there, always, and Zechs had suddenly wanted her out of the conspiracy he was involved with and to do that he had successfully separated her from his life.

Why had it been necessary?

Just what had his life become that he took that drastic step?

He would eventually have an answer as to exactly what it was that Zechs did and, perhaps more importantly, for whom Zechs did it. Conspiracies attracted his attention as few other things could.

"Yes, because she is safer with me out of her life. What she wanted from me I could not, and cannot, give her. Being who and what I am."

What she had wanted? A normal life, perhaps? Them being a couple in a normal domestic relationship? Jesus, Marquise did not do normal, the woman would know that. A professional working couple would be more like it; an intimate professional working couple. That much she might have got out of Marquise long term, with careful handling.

"And that is… what… exactly?"

Again silence from the tent and this time Duo allowed it, poking absently at the fire. The man would need a few minutes to sort out what he thought might be a reasonable answer. He would steer clear of the shadowy domain of Marquise's work, but there was always the chance something might be said that Duo could work with and glean some small clue from in private.

He really was going to need to start packing up the equipment he had brought with him and the tents and equipment belonging to the other men. They were determined to leave today and there was obviously nothing he could do about that. He would have preferred to transport Zechs to his destination of choice, quietly and unobtrusively, when the man was a little more physically capable but such options, it appeared, were denied him.

"I don't play happy families, Duo." The quiet voice seemed to fill the room, deep and raspy, somehow profound. "I haven't since I was six years old."

Few of the people Duo knew could claim to play happy families, in fact, none of them could. Winner was singularly unhappy with his family and he alone of the pilots had anything remotely resembling a family life. Duo knew how unhappy the Winner sisters were to learn their little brother was not 'normal' when it came to the personal relationship game; and Quatre constantly ignored their 'advice' on how to run the corporation. Their expectations of the baby brother they knew so little about had been dashed early on. Quatre had refused to be ruled by his sisters and his sex life; he had made that clear to them when just who and what Trowa was became apparent, was out of bounds

No, Quatre was not exactly the sisters 'darling' little brother.

"Can't say that I've played the happy families game either. So, with Noin out of the picture, even as a friend since your intention is to keep her safe, who does that leave you with to call your friend?"

This time the silence was profound. Duo sighed, closing his eyes against the firelight and the dancing shadows on the walls of the pantry, if only for a moment. Yeah, he'd thought so, but he was not going to allow it. Everyone needed someone to be there for them, to prop them up when the weight of the world was just that little bit too much to stand against.

Zechs had said it himself not so long ago. Eloquently telling them exactly why you needed friends and now… now he was silent. Well, no way was Duo Maxwell, who stood on the outside as Marquise did, going to allow that. Whether he was Zechs Merquise, Milliardo Peacecraft, Preventer Wind or the bogyman lurking under the bed, everyone needed someone they could rely on.

"I'd like to think I count there."

"You… do. Duo, don't get involved in this. Do not go back on your promise to stay out of what is to come. Despite what you think I am not incapable of dealing with it, and the fewer people I need to watch out for the easier it will be to do what I must. Leave me, trust me, and when it is done… I'll find you. I promise you, I will find you… if you want me to."

Why did the shadows dance across the wall the way they did? He could almost swear there was a face on the wall opposite him… rudimentary eye holes, a gaping mouth… elongated, almost dragon like; certainly not a human shape, but definitely something there, in the dancing darkness.

Shadow puppets anyone? In this firelight one could see all sorts of thing in the flickering light.

He snorted, dismissed the thought, and tossed his braid over his shoulder. He would stay out of it if he could, but he would not go out of his way to avoid conflict. If an opportunity presented itself, if someone came seeking him, then he would not run from it. Marquise would have to know him well enough to know that.

"So how did you do it?"

"How did I…?" Zechs sounded a little startled by the shift. "How did I do what?"

"How do you know us so well, when, in truth, we have barely spoken to you over the years?"

It was a question the others would be asking themselves, but whether or not they would actually ask it of Marquise was another matter. Duo was getting to know the man, at least a little, and he felt he was justified in asking. There was no real time to get to know him, to ask him a fraction of the questions he wanted to ask, but this was a start.

A slow, deep breath from within the tent answered him and he waited. He could be patient. Zechs would know he would not be distracted from this one, he felt he knew the man enough to know that much. An answer would be forthcoming, even if it wasn't the answer he wanted. Marquise was clever enough to give him something without seeming to, he would need to be careful with the answer, probably save it up for another time to consider in all its many fold aspects.

"You think my observations are so accurate?"

Did he think…? Well, that wasn't going to work, no distractions allowed, thank you very much.

"Shit, yeah. You were right on the money with all of us. So how do you know someone, five someones, you haven't spent any appreciable time with?"

"I was a trained Commander of men, Duo. Basic psychology is a part of my training."

Point, but not good enough.

"Yeah, no doubt it is, but that sure as hell wasn't basic psychology. It went a bit deeper than that, Zechs. Don't shit me around, okay? I've been honest with you and I've told you I won't rock the boat, not unless someone comes after me. If they do, then all bets are off. I don't play the prey very well, but I sure as hell enjoy the hunt. So, how do you know us so well when none of us know you?"

The dragon shadow on the wall seemed to elongate into something else, spreading in sections, narrowing in others until something that resembled a bird with wings outstretched reared above the flickering flames. The silence stretched, not an uncomfortable silence, but an expectant one. Zechs would not deny him an answer, though what he might make of the answer would be up to him.

Here's where the cryptic would enter the dynamic. No one said the man had to spell things out for him letter by letter. He could expect that cryptic response now. How much time would he need to puzzle over its many facets to reach resolution?

"There is not a lot you can hide in your dreams."

"You've said words to that effect before."

Okay, there was something there that Zechs was hiding, possibly in plain sight. The man was cunning enough to hide it in the open and leave it up to Duo to puzzle out. Could he get just a little more out of him?

"If you don't mind, I need to pee."

Guess not.

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	55. Chapter 55

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Organization, Murder Minor to Shadows Word Count : 2,591

Series: Friends 55/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Archive: Under the name kt at Gundam Wing Universe at /

Gundam Wing Diaries -wing-diaries.

/karina/

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge = Trowa, Wu Fei and Heero

Chapter 55

What was it he could expect of these young men in days to come?

They were each very much individuals in their own right, strong and independent. Each had their own thoughts of what they wanted… or what they thought they should want. Each assumed they should want what society demanded of them. Each pilot assumed they should desire to conform to societies standards of normality.

A lot of assumption.

But one of the four was a rebel and was willing to exist beyond the normal… or a step or two to the side of normal.

They were, in so many ways, as lost as he himself had been… truth to tell, as lost as he still was. He would never have, by any definition of society, a normal life. There was no home for him, he would forever be on the outside looking in; but there might yet be a home for them. Their struggle was as much with themselves as it was with other people's views.

They struggled to find a place in this modern world; a world without conflict.

A world espousing the Perfect Peace Principle.

What a piece of soiled doggerel that was.

His sister's much vaunted Perfect Peace Principle. If followed and maintained it would keep the world from teetering and sliding off the edge of sanity into war… and it was a farce. Few people in their society knew the truth of why there had been so little in the way of conflict in recent times. Few knew why pockets of protest and unrest had been so effectively dealt with as to rarely warrant a front page on the newspapers of the world.

Success was measured in silence.

Perfect Peace. It was a flawed principle, but people insisted on believing in it. If they did not find out what their peace was based on, what sewerage lay beneath the surface, well, he supposed it was worth the cost to the few who did know.

The world could be such an ignorant place.

Ignorant?

Perhaps innocent might be a better word?

The time had come for him to step away from the organization, to divorce himself from their control. It must be carefully done and the first thing he would need to find was the source of his current troubles. He must ensure the riderless horse were bridled and brought under control.

If he could not establish restraint to keep them controlled within tolerable restrictions, then he would need to eliminate them… one way or another.

He might know what a farce this peace was, but it was, when all was said and done, peace. It was his sister's peace and for her he would do what he could to give the peace every chance of developing and continuing throughout her lifetime. He owed it to her for the hell he had put her and the world through, but without that chaos, without the threat of Armageddon being so real they could taste it, they would never have taken the steps they needed to bring about peace.

Mankind was very good at killing itself.

The pacifists in the fold needed a chance to prove to mankind that it could be equally as good at curbing baser instincts.

He had been willing to act the part of the ultimate villain when it was needed, so why should he not act the part that was needed now?

But this time he need not be the villain. There were a few individuals who might consider him in that light, those who were pushing for changes which, ultimately, would slide into the beginnings of dissention; and dissention would ultimately beget war. He needed to counter that slide before it became a landslip that no engineer could contain.

It would require that he focus his attention on certain people, and regrettably they would know he was alive soon enough. Too soon for his liking. It would have been better if it had been just he and Maxwell on the mountain. The younger man could have slipped him into New Port City, or to another location of his choosing. He would have had a few days for the nanobots to work on his body and for him to plan out the method of his search.

He might even have had the good fortune to complete his investigation before his survival became known to his limited list of suspects. Unfortunately such was not to be and he could be assured there would be a reception committee awaiting him when they landed.

Primary on his list of to do's would be the need to distract his controllers' attention from the pilots. He would ensure they were not brought to the attention of the Committee and, given someone would be afraid he would target them that would be easy enough to accomplish.

All he ready needed to do was make it plain to his reception committee that he was not amused and that he was going to be looking for answers.

Who knows what he might turn up that could potentially prove useful? A guilty conscience leaked like a sieve.

The confirmation of his survival alone would put the responsible parties on notice, and it would worry those innocent of the matter enough to focus their attention on him. Out of fear. They had learned to have a healthy respect for his abilities and they would worry that he was planning to act against them all until he discovered those responsible for the attempt on his life.

There would have been plenty of time for a cover up to be arranged. The instigator of the attempt on his life would have been careful to disguise his part in the murderous attempt, but it would be to no avail. Not one of them would be able to escape his particular form of interrogation.

Not one of them would be able to keep him out.

He just needed to stay alive long enough to snare them.

He would learn everything there was to be known; if this was a singular personal incident, or if it was a part of a greater conspiracy. It was quite possible the attempt on his life was purely personal on the part of a single person, or perhaps a select few individuals. Certainly he had made enough enemies in the past. It was most likely the one who actually performed the physical act of murder was a mentally disturbed individual who held a grudge against him from the war. If the one who arranged the opportunity was ruthless enough, and who wasn't if they were in this business, then the odds were in favour of his killer actually having been silenced already.

He was of the opinion it was unlikely the assassination attempt had been a one off, planned solely by a single individual. There was a movement for change within the organization which he was known to openly oppose. He had stated he would not cooperate should the proposed alternations to the organization's constitution be implemented. He had gone so far as to inform his controllers that he would be inclined to recommend to certain persons in high positions the dissolution of the organization if those questionable changes were adopted.

Coming so close on the heels of his refusal to consider the new methods put forward, it was likely someone had taken exception to his objections.

Sucked to be popular.

Still, arranging for his murder seemed a little extreme.

Should the wrong people gain too much power within the organization then, instead of being an aid in maintaining the peace, it could instead become a tool for forging new conflict. He was willing to allow the pacifists to attempt to create a civilization free of extreme conflict. Others who attained a degree of power, and who claimed little moral fibre, might see it as a means to enforce their will from the shadows.

Unseen puppet masters.

If things turned sour and the organization was not disbanded, he might find himself with the need to be creative to contain the damage that might be done by those who were less than scrupulous.

People who worked for the organization worked in the shadows, unseen and unheard. Their primary task was to nip trouble in the bud before it could develop into something Preventers more publically needed to deal with. It was so much easier to control one or two individuals who might be strategically placed to affect a larger situation. Getting one man to resign from a position of prominence and placing another in their place more inclined to work for the peace, was far more discrete than sending in a squad of Preventers.

He was one of a select few individuals whose task it was to deal with such matters.

One was expected to be discrete. Identifying a potential source of dissent before it could form tendrils reaching out to undermine the foundations of peace was no easy thing, and he was careful how he went about the task. That was how the organization had gotten their best results, from being discrete; for going for the heart of a problem before it developed.

Those now coming into the organization were not so careful, nor were they so uniquely equipped for the role as he. The truth was the organization was growing too big. While the group had been small and made up of a small but extremely talented task force, it had been easier to keep tabs on other agents and to keep the ideal pure.

Sometimes bigger was by no means better.

If the group had now grown to a point where he could not totally pull their teeth, then it would present issues he could not ignore.

Blue eyes flicked up from the dancing flames at the rising murmur of voices. Duo had collapsed the tent and packed it away, making a dry place for him to sit with a thermal blanket as a base, and wrapping him well against the cold with another. They would be ready to depart soon and he was far from ready to go.

It was unfortunate but unavoidable. He was in no condition to slip away from the hut whilst they were busy preparing, and now would have been the perfect time to try it.

He would have preferred to at least have the grace of some clothing. Other than his briefs the clothes he had been wearing were pretty much ruined. Duo had washed out his underwear as best he could, and dried it by the fire so that at least he would not be naked for the trip.

Small consolation, but not much when one considered what he would be going into.

Could he stand on his own two feet? It was too early to tell, he decided, and he was not willing to push himself when he might well need the energy just to survive the night. He could be patient; he would be patient. He would go quietly, trusting Duo Maxwell to make himself scarce, as he had promised.

He would need to make it plain from the onset how stupid it would be for the organization to hunt the former Gundam Pilot simply because he had chanced to be in the right place at the right time… or the wrong time, depending on you viewpoint. He was certain Duo would have lost none of his skills and why should more people die than necessary?

Maxwell was the known pilot; the one whose face had been plastered all over the ESUN. It had left him feeling hunted, insecure. If one considered oneself to be prey, then one never lost that edge of survival. There was also something else about Duo; something extraordinary. It was that 'something' which had led him to this forsaken cabin on the side of a mountain in time to save a man who had died too many times already in the eyes of the world.

Duo was as exceptional in that special way as he was. They could both claim a somewhat less than 'normal' talent.

How many others like them were out there? How many other people had that little 'something' extra which set them apart from the norm? What was it that caused them to be the way they were? How many people knew about it; about their exceptional abilities, or the abilities appearing in the population in general? How many people feared it? How many exploited it for personal gain?

How many people tried to run from it?

No, it was better not to get lost in that trap. There was Duo and there was he. There was at least the two of them. Let it be accepted there were others out there in the wide world, in the far reaches of space, and that would be enough for him. He would do what he could to keep Duo safe and, if at all possible, he would join up with the young man when he had taught a lesson to those who struck at him from the shadows.

He did not mind working in the shadows, in fact it was the best way for his particular talent to work. He did not need to be on prominent display when he worked. He preferred to be anonymous. He was not seen to be working by his compatriots, though he got the job done and he had never needed to kill in the process.

Unlike Yuy, he had not taken any oaths not to kill again, but he had never been a wanton killer. By birth and early training he was supposed to be a pacifist, but the pacifist had died all those years ago in fire and in the ruins of another time and place.

So, not a pacifist, but one who was willing to give the pacifists the chance to prove they could run the world… with a little unobtrusive assistance in a timely fashion, from the shadows.

His assignments had been met with calm efficiency and no bloodshed. On the two recent occasions when a kill order had come through to him he had queried the order, reminding his control that he was not a contracted assassin. He had settled both instances without killing and without fanfare of any sort as was his usual manner of working. He had proven yet again that it was not required that anyone pay with their life.

Someone was not happy with that.

Did they believe his manner of operations was somehow lacking?

He was generally quick, efficient, neat to the point of obsession and successful. What more could they ask for? He was not an assassin, he was a soldier and there was a marked difference. Nor was he a terrorist, and if the organization should adopt those tactics, renouncing their original constitution, he would turn his attention to taking them down.

It was that point he would need to get across to the Committee. He had to remind them of what their constitution was all about, why they were there; what they were there for.

One did not have to kill to procure results, even when giving abject lessons to those who should know better.

If reminding them did not work, then his choices were limited and he was ticked off enough not to dance around. He would go that step further and they would wish he was merciful and killed them.

There was no mercy left in Zechs Marquise.

No mercy at all.

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	56. Chapter 56

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Organization, Expectation, Vacuum, Conspiracy. Minor to Murder, Rescue, Shadows Word Count : 2,358

Series: Friends 56/??

Author: Karina

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs and Heero

Chapter 56

Heero slid his end of the stretcher into the helicopter and jumped in after, moving quickly to steady the device as Trowa continued to walk forward. The helicopter was equipped for rescues and the stretcher would slot in to a section designed for it and enable them to lock it down for safe flying, securing the man on it against turbulence in transit.

Marquise was silent, swathed in every blanket they could find to keep him warm against the frigid air. The rotors were turning slowly, the engine muted as it idled, waiting for them to settle everyone in place, and keeping the engine warm preparatory to their flight. Trowa heaved one last time and Heero picked up his end, guiding the stretcher to angle in to the slot, then Trowa was beside him and they began the task of securing Marquise.

No protest came from the depths of the blanket as they applied the straps to the stretcher and its cargo, and Heero inclined his head to Trowa as he caught up the last of the straps, motioning toward the door behind him.

"Give them a hand to remove the last of the gear. I'll finish here."

Without a word Trowa slipped out of the helicopter, closing the door behind him and Heero turned his attention to the straps and the man watching him.

"It would probably be better for us if we left the Preventer machine on the mountain for another team to pick up."

"No." The deep voice was barely audible from the many folds of cloth. "Transfer me to the Preventer machine; it would not take long to prep the other machine and the delay should be negligible. Duo needs to make himself scarce, and that is best done in this machine."

Heero sat back on his heels, considering Marquise for a long moment before glancing back over his shoulder toward the cabin. He reached to test the door for something to do, hoping the machine's interior would warm quickly against the bone aching chill of the air. He was uncertain as to exactly how to carry on this conversation, and he did not want Maxwell to walk in on them.

"He will protest."

"Perhaps, but he did promise me he would make himself scarce. This is the best opportunity for him to escape the attention of my reception committee."

Heero sighed softly. "He will not stay out of what ever it is you have caught yourself up in. That is not the way Duo Maxwell works."

Marquise, from his nest of blankets, echoed the sigh. "He will… for a time, at least. The sooner I can deal with the matter the better, before temptation gets the better of him and he has to meddle."

"And the rest of us? There is no hiding who we are."

"Do not be seen to be doing anything out of the ordinary. Go on with your lives as you were before you took this assignment, but keep an eye out for each other's backs until the matter is settled. It will be resolved, one way or the other, to my satisfaction. Watch, but do nothing, until they make the mistake of thinking to move against you."

"You do not say 'if' they move against us."

Marquise sighed, a long fingered hand emerging from beneath the blankets and waggling from side to side for a moment. "Perhaps the one who heads this faction will have more brains than to target you. It depends on a number of factors."

"Not a particularly satisfactory answer."

"I know, but it is, if nothing else, an honest answer. The organization knew the value of discretion and the virtue of leaving what is best left alone, alone. A 'less interference is better than more interference' policy was the key to making a difference in the state of world affairs, and remaining unknown and unsuspected was the bonus for such a low profile."

Heero glanced over his shoulder once again, peering through the small window in the door to check on the progress of the others. With no one yet in sight he turned back to Marquise.

"So what has changed?"

"There are new faces, with old ideas of how best to change people's minds about their dealings. Removing them permanently from the picture is seen as an easier and more cost effective method. At present it is an uncomfortable stand off, though given they moved to remove me, I suspect the stand off is over and they are making their move to attain the controlling influence in the group. The power struggle will not be pretty if it can not be controlled, and the less people who are involved in the mess, the better."

"Why were you targeted specifically?"

The visible hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. "Because I am what I am. Who I am. I defy their concept of who I should be."

The silence was heavy, innuendo underlying the quiet words and Heero considered his next words with care. He did not know as much as he wanted to about this mysterious organization, and that was something he had already decided to remedy. No matter Marquise's reasoning for keeping the pilots out of the matter, he wanted more answers.

"They are afraid of you."

"I suspect they are afraid of my reputation, not specifically me, though that will change quickly enough. Do nothing to come to their attention, Heero. Keep yourself to yourself, staying away from their field of play. If you do that, if the others do that, then you should have no difficulties. They will watch for a time, expect them too, but they will have other matters to concern themselves with. If you are seen to be deviating from your normal routines… they may not pause to question but act in haste."

Heero scratched at his unruly mop of hair, considering the information. "How much have you told Maxwell?"

"As little as possible, just as I am telling you as little as possible now. They have made it a private matter for me to deal with; it is now personal. I will deal with it accordingly and yes, I do not take kindly to being targeted. They had their chance to take me unawares, they tried and they missed; now they will know to watch their backs because I am not inclined to turn the other cheek."

Clear enough warning it could get messy, Heero decided. Marquise had warned him of trouble to come, advised he and the other pilots stay out of it and be seen to be doing only what they had been doing before this rescue. Business as usual, trying to forge a new life for themselves and maybe, if they kept to that innocent seeming routine, they should be alright.

Or possibly not. The warning to watch their backs had also been given, meaning the people Marquise opposed were not renowned for their forgiving nature.

There was indeed the potential for a messy confrontation.

"You are expecting people to die." Not a question but a statement, delivered in a quite inflectionless voice.

"People always die, Yuy. It comes to us all eventually, but the time of our death can sometimes be chosen by another… or by circumstances escaping our control. The wise remember this and keep a wary eye out, becoming survivors at the end of the day."

"And the foolish perish," Heero breathed. "We are not amateurs."

"And that is exactly why they will watch you."

"Hnnn. How long will you require to deal with it?"

To the point, as he should expect from Yuy. How long would he have before the pilots could no longer resist the temptation to meddle? He could not, in all honestly, give an effective time line. He needed to learn what had transpired in his absence and plan accordingly.

"That depends on what I find when I return."

"They might try again before you reach your destination."

In all likelihood they would indeed try again. Perhaps even simply toss him out of the helicopter should they commandeer the Preventers machine. It was a possibility he had not blinded himself to.

"I am well aware of that. I am warned and they will not find it so easy to take me down."

The lights in the cabin cast strangely shaped shadows and for an instant Heero felt a shiver course up his spine which had nothing to do with the cold air. The shadows seemed to reflect the tone of voice, quiet, very much controlled and utterly devoid of warmth. It was a promise Marquise was not about to be taken down, that he had matters he intended to oversee to a satisfactory conclusion.

"There may be a vacuum at the top for a short time. It depends who I find to be involved in the attempt on my life. If I need to, I will take out the entire organization."

Simply and easily spoken, not so easily done, of course, but he knew secrets. He knew the dark and secret places in men's minds that would crumble the organization in on itself.

"Will any of this come back to reflect on Relena?"

His sister, whom he knew so little of yet knew quite well. The pacifist Peacecraft who chose the name Darlian and who could keep the peace process alive; flawed as it was, but alive. No, he would ensure nothing could reflect back on her to tarnish her shining reputation. No doubt if she ever found out what lengths he had gone to, in the past and no doubt would use in the future to ensure the peace process continued, she would forget she was a pacifist and give him what he deserved. But that was in the realms of what if, and he was not about to walk down that road.

"Not if I have my way."

Zechs tucked his hand back in the blankets, stray locks of pale hair spilling out from his nest and Heero found himself tucking that cascade back under the blankets, marvelling at the silken strands sliding through his fingers. In many ways the Peacecraft siblings were alike, the stubborn streak they shared in particular.

"We could help you."

For a long moment there was no response as the man appeared to consider the offer, and it was a genuine offer. Heero would get involved, perhaps the others too, and that was not what Zechs intended. His own life was hell, living each day as though it was his last, making a difference as best he could; finding something to keep a dead man living. It was not easy being dead, but it was a decision he had made with full knowledge of the consequences and he had sworn he would not lament it.

There was no reason why these young men needed to involve themselves in his problems and every reason for them not to. Duo was the only one of the former Gundam Pilots who would know something of what he lived. His life as the known face of the Gundam Pilots was a warning to the others. Maxwell wanted no charity from Quatre who, Zechs knew, would do anything to help his friends. Four of the five pilots had a chance to gain something more from life than pointing fingers and whispers, fear and mistrust.

One of their number was marked as a rebel in the public eye, the others were more fortunate. For their own sakes they needed to stay away from his troubles and Zechs would deal with the problem as speedily as he could, before they grew restless with the promise of action. Even the fiery Chang Wu Fei would feel that restlessness build until, ultimately, it would drive them all to meddle.

Duo would be the first of them, Zechs was sure, and once Maxwell interfered the others would follow in a glorious avalanche of action, and not one of them would have regrets at jumping in to the fray.

"You could, but you should not."

Heero looked anything but satisfied by the response. "I am concerned this organization you hint at will disturb the balance of power now in play. The ESUN can not afford conspiracies at the moment. I do not want a return to conflict. I do not want to have to go to war again. I… do not…"

Heero sucked in a breath, displaying more emotion than Zechs could honestly say he had ever witnessed from the younger man. He was no longer the Perfect Soldier, this young man, but a youth struggling with his own destiny, seeking a place for himself and finding the going harder than he had imagined.

"There are always conspiracies in the halls of power. That is exactly why the Organization was formed. Heero, please. I should be able to deal with this before matters slip out of control."

"Is it not already out of control? They have tried to kill you once already. I would call that being out of control."

Point, but all was not irrevocably lost, not yet. Not if he could gain a few allies in the organization, and he was not the only one who objected to the new influences being brought to bear.

"Attempting to kill me was an error of judgement on someone's part, and that error will cost them the game. If a time comes for you to act, then you will recognize it, but for now trust me. I did not do what I did in 195 to have the need for such extreme action repeat again. Not in my lifetime."

"You have a tendency to overreact."

The sound of Marquise laughing heartily greeted Duo as he opened the cabin door. Frowning he glanced at Heero who looked more than a little surprised, and no little put out, by Marquise's mirth.

"Something funny? Care to share?"

"I have no idea what he finds so amusing," Heero returned.

Marquise snorted, shifting on the stretcher, trying to gain a little more comfort. "Honestly? Think about it, Heero. I seem to recall you had your moments in 195."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	57. Chapter 57

Sorry I'm so late but hopefully I can get back on track sooner rather than later. If you noticed the header don't panic. I'm planning on splitting Friends into a second part and the next chapter will be the closing of Friends and lead in to the beginning of the next set, which will retain the title Friends with something hopefully a little more imaginative than Friends 2... Well, we can but hope.

I do hope you will stick with me as the boys move in to a new phase of exploring this thing called friendship.

Karina

* * *

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Organization, Laughter Minor to Murder Word Count: 2,491

Series: Friends 57/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs and Qautre

Chapter 57

Duo discovered, for the third time in less than ten minutes, that he was gripping the seat tight enough to leave impressions of his hands in the seat and lose the feeling in his fingers. The closer the helicopter flew towards New Port City the more his mood darkened.

They were nearing the point on the mountain's flank where the other pilots had landed and they had decided to split into two groups, provided the Preventer machine was operable and there was no reason why it should not be. Once Heero landed their intention was to transfer Marquise to the Preventer machine and they expected him to pilot the Winner Enterprises helicopter back to New Port City.

And while he docilely allowed them to tell him what was best for him, they would take Zechs to the Preventer section of the airport and tamely hand him over to the bastards who had tried to kill him.

He was not happy with the planned operation and he knew they knew it. He was of the opinion he had expressed himself clearly enough a dog could understand, they knew what he thought of the entire matter but... but none of them appeared to give a damn about his thoughts on the subject.

No one cared what he thought they should or should not do and maybe, just maybe, they were right and he was wrong. But maybe they were the ones who were wrong; had they given that any thought?

They were supposed to be his friends and friends listened, didn't they? Friends listened and understood where you were coming from. Real friends listened. That was what Sister Helen had told him. Friends made an effort to hear what you said and to understand why you were saying it.

He had always believed that, but for every reason he came up with for not going to the Preventer hangers and handing Marquise over, they had a dozen counter reasons for what they were about to do. Well, let's not exaggerate here, maybe not a dozen reasons... Generally it was one or two, but the upshot was that he was firmly on the outside.

And Marquise was siding with them!

And wasn't that shitting him off?!

What was wrong with the man? He knew what had to be waiting for him, but he was willing to go back and get himself screwed over, yet again, by people who were supposed to be his friends. Well, maybe not friends exactly; to be honest, if he gave it some thought, he could not recall Marquise had ever called them his friends. Had he?

No, he was pretty sure the word 'friend' and work never actually came up in relation to each other.

One's work colleagues and superiors were supposed to have the best interests of the people they worked with, and protected, at heart.

Or was he thinking in regards to an ideal world?

How did the man survive from day to day knowing no one trusted him?

That was why this scenario had come about... Lack of trust.

It was... gut wrenching.

It spoke of a solitary existence where no one could be trusted, where you spent your days looking over your shoulder to see who might be carrying a knife and who was looking your way with the wrong kind of interest in your activities.

For a special ops agent it was deadly. If you were working in special operations you had to have trust in your team; trust in those who gave the orders and in the people who carried out those orders and managed the assignment with you.

If trust was lacking you were as good as dead.

Death, if not by the hands of the enemy, then by those nonexistent friends who suffered you to work for them, and only as long as they needed you.

Duo felt his fingers clench tighter on the seat and made a concentrated effort to ease his grip and keep his fingers relaxed.

Could he live like that in a special ops organization?

Shit no!

That was why he would not work for Preventer, despite the best efforts of the other pilots to enlist him in the organization. That was the reason behind why he didn't work for more than one month in any one job. Because people who did not know him, and who should give him a chance, did not trust him... and because of it he was living from day to day and learning to live and breathe distrust for everyone.

Except Quatre.

Somehow he knew he could trust Quatre. From the day they had met he had just... known.

He had thought he might be able to trust Trowa too, but now he was not so sure.

It was a dilemma, thinking he could rely on no one but himself and Quatre. Knowing Quatre understood him though they were worlds apart was the only comfort he had found since the war ended. Quatre was rich and famous, the face of Winner Enterprises, but he made time for a street rat from L2 he had met in the war. Quatre was...

Different.

Trowa... was different again. He wasn't like Quatre, in fact no one was like Quatre. No one seemed to be able to hold a candle to Quatre. He just seemed to know what you needed and when you needed it. He did not foist himself on you, he was simply there when needed.

He hadn't reacted to anyone, ever, as he had reacted to Quatre... Until now. Until he came face to face with Zechs Marquise. The formidable Milliardo Peacecraft, Prince of Sanc, who should rightfully be a King and who was working in obscurity, a dead man walking. Hated and feared in equal measure... and likely totally misunderstood by everyone.

Duo understood about being misunderstood.

There was something about Marquise that stuck a cord deep within him that was almost like Quatre, but was unique to Marquise. Similar, but not the same. Duo did not understand it, he just felt it.

Quatre, Marquise... The other pilots were different too, but he had more trust in them than in the organization they worked for. He did not think he could trust Preventers. It was just another branch of a government who professed to know what was best and forced them into accepting the mould it chose as appropriate.

It was not just big government sponsored organizations that made him step back and consider how other people saw him. He had always been touchy feely with people and he found it more than a little uncomfortable not to touch. It was as though to touch someone was to know them and firm in his mind if they could be trusted or not. Distrust was a killer for social niceties. It murdered the feel good aspects of being a people person.

He was losing it. He had to be.

Was he losing it? Was he losing Duo Maxwell? What he was, who he was, had been shaped by his past and he had prided himself on rising above the horror of the streets, of bettering himself. First he had started by educating himself at the Maxwell Orphanage and, when fate had robbed him of that home, there had been the Sweepers. Studying under the Sweepers had led to becoming a Gundam Pilot.

Touchy feely. The Sweepers were very much socially oriented and social interaction had become an integral part of who Duo Maxwell was.

He had found it relatively easy to make friends in the orphanage, they were like him, street kids. They spoke the same language with body as well as words. He'd made friends in the Sweepers too. He liked the lifestyle and people were sociable but also knew when to give you space. In ships you lived in each other's pockets but you soon learned how to give space on a level beyond the physical.

During the war, even as a Gundam Pilot, he had made friends easily enough. Howard. Hilde. The other pilots of the Gundams. There were not a great many people he had given that title to; he had many acquaintances, far fewer friends. There was a distinction between an acquaintance and a friend, after all.

Because he had so few friends he felt the loss keenly and he felt that he was steadily losing the other pilots. He felt like he was losing them to the social reforms imposed on them by the government they were expected to conform to.

'You are no longer guerrilla fighters.' 'You are no longer rebels.' 'You are expected to conform, to become productive participants in society.'

Productive participants in society.

The others seemed to want to be a part of that society pretty badly. They certainly were doing their utmost to conform to its standards. Where did that leave him in their lives?

He could call Quatre his friend, he had no doubt of that. Howard too. Howard understood him and would make a place for him in the Sweepers; all he had to do was ask and he knew it. Howard was waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do with himself, willing to take him in when he was ready.

Like a real friend Howard knew and understood he wasn't ready.

Hilde... Ah, Hilde. Things had gone so wrong there and he hadn't realised at first how bad things were getting. She had wanted more from him than he could give but.... Were they still friends, just without the capital F?

Oh joy, this was just grand. He was having a crisis, a mental breakdown, on the bloody chopper.

No, he wasn't. It wasn't a mental crisis, it was just a... a... reassessment of his... valuables? Yes, his valuables. His treasures. His true, priceless treasures.

No glitz and no glamour to make cheap knock offs look like the real deal. Straight forward truth and real life. Opening his eyes and seeing life for what was of real value; as it should be, no longer blinded by the bling.

There was a shit load of bling in the world.

When you lived on the streets you learned what was really valuable and that was not the material things in life. It wasn't money, it wasn't the food you might or not eat that day... It wasn't having a cardboard box you could crawl into at night for shelter. It was having a friend who might share their scrap of food with you, who might let you sleep in his box, someone who smiled at you and didn't expect anything from you.

Only a friend would do that and not expect you to pay them back unless you wanted to.

"Duo."

The quiet word in that deep, husky voice drew his immediate attention. He had felt Marquise's attention on him for some time, but the man had remained silent throughout the flight and the others had left them alone. In fact, no one was talking on the comms, all of them attended to the drill of flying the helicopter and finding the Preventer machine, but none of them were talking socially.

Business as usual in Preventers.

Marquise flashed his com frequency at him, switching off the public com to a private channel and Duo did likewise, glancing toward the cockpit and noting everyone was focused on their tasks. No one seemed to care what was happening in the back of the chopper.

"Yeah? You need something?"

"Thank you."

Those blue eyes were intense, staring into his soul, somehow seeing right through his false bravado. Understanding he did not like being alone and isolated. Understanding he was a social creature and that he hated the gap he found separating him from the rest of the world.

Those blue eyes, like the finest blue tinted crystal, saw entirely too much.

"For what?"

"For being there."

Around them the helicopter reverberated to the roar of the rotors, affording them some level of privacy in these final few minutes before they landed. It was as though the noise and the vibration was a privacy screen, walling them off from the rest of the world. A sanctuary, if only a temporary one.

"Well... Guess you were lucky I was wandering past."

He grinned, forcing it, still somewhat lost in what he would later denounce as a moment of self pity; a deplorable moment in which he indulged in useless self pity. He had no time for people who indulged in self pity and would give himself a stiff lecture on the virtues of shrugging, swallowing the shit and getting on with living; exactly the advice he gave to others who whinged and moaned at what life threw at them.

"I will not forget what you did while you were 'wandering past' and sought shelter from the storm. I will neither forget it nor will I play it up in others company... But in your presence, I will not play it down. I owe you my life and I will not forget."

"Yeah, well. 'S okay. Each to their own. All that sort of crap."

Oh, he was out of sorts, wasn't he? He should slap himself up the side of the head and get on with getting on. Laughing was good, that was always a forward thing to do, a determined step forward and on to the next challenge. He could crack a joke and have the whole lot of them laughing. He might not feel like laughing himself, but his jesters mask was there and he knew how to wear that face quite well.

"Keep your masks in their box, Duo Maxwell. I have worn a mask, of one sort or another, all of my life and I can recognize someone who wears as many as I do. All I ask is that you guard your back and you think before you leap off the deep end. I am capable of handling this, and I will handle it. And if you are of a mind, I would like to... be your friend. No demands on you, no expectations; no asking you to do something you would rather avoid. I would simply like to get to know who Duo Maxwell is when I am free to do so."

"You want to know Duo Maxwell? I'm fucked if I know who he is these days."

The words took him by surprise but he could not call them back and they were, if nothing else, honest. The truth. Most days he did not know who he was or what he was supposed to be. He was still looking for himself in a world that wanted nothing to do with him besides hand him labels and expect him to be that label.

"Then we are well suited to be friends. We each need to determine who we are, not who the world would have us be."

End

Karina Robertson 2009


	58. Chapter 58

Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Wind, Nightmare, Conspiracy, Murder, Resolution, Rescue, Memories, Anger, Veteran, Information Word Count: 4,212

Series: Friends 58/58

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends and to ShenLong Deb for some last minute feedback.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs and Heero

Chapter 58

It would begin soon. The rotors of the helicopter turned lazily as the engine warmed up and the pre flight checks were completed. It was bitterly cold in the belly of the machine and he tried not to shiver as Chang moved past. He could not afford to show weakness beyond what was obvious and, truth to tell, Chang would be the last person he would willingly show his vulnerability to.

The killer of his… friend… was not necessarily his friend.

Petty. There was no time to regress to sulky schoolboy and in the light of harsh reality, Chang was low on his list of priorities. Amusingly enough the man would be insulted if he knew how low his standing graded. Of the three former Gundam Pilots on the helicopter none he would dare fate to name a friend… and only one he might consider to be an ally.

It was cold and he envied Chang his Preventer issue clothing. There, that was why he picked at the idea of Chang being in his life; it was freezing and Chang looked anything but cold.

He could lie to himself, so long as he acknowledged he was lying. It was when he started to believe those little half truths that he would be in trouble.

The cold was a minor discomfort and inconvenience after all; soon enough the nanobots would raise his core temperature. With conscious brain activity the nanomachines would work to keep a body active even as, during the attempt to kill him, they had worked to shut down physical functions to preserve his life. With the nanobots emulating hibernation how long might he actually have been able to survive the extreme cold had Maxwell not arrived?

Thankfully it had not come to that.

The wonders of modern medical science. He should have been dead years ago and he was still alive, still breathing and still wishing… what? What was it he wished for? Death? Did he want to die? Did he want to give it all up and have it end, once and for all?

He would find relief in an ending.

An end to the looks, to the whispers, to the sly innuendo from people too afraid to come right out and accuse him of the most heinous acts in the long list of atrocities mankind had committed against his fellow man and Terra Firma. Few dared to say anything to his face, but he was well aware of the looks, and he was certainly not deaf to their whispers. However giving up was not in the nature of any of his persona's. He well might be a sorry excuse for a human being, but he did what he could, where he could.

For one such as he, who had dared all, there was no forgiveness from his fellow man.

Peacecrafts had been fighters for the peace for generations; they did not fight with guns and weapons of steel, but with words and ideals. How easy it was, even for a Peacecraft, to revert to that older, more basic humanity. The Survivor.

He was a survivor; one who gritted his teeth and endured whatever came his way because something basic, deep inside, refused to lie down and die at another's behest.

It was pretty much a certainty that none of the three pilots would keep him company on this last leg of the flight to New Port City. He would have the time to reflect and prepare himself for what was to come and have little chance of being disturbed.

He resisted the urge to try to peer out of the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the other machine. That helicopter was more crew friendly than this military machine with its basic heaters and devotion to functionality. The Winner Enterprises helicopter would shadow them back to civilisation, keeping Maxwell warm with its wonderfully efficient heaters while he froze his arse off in this purely functional mode of transportation.

Preventer was a paramilitary organisation and their equipment reflected the basic nature of their business. Efficiency, functionality and no frills to soften the agents, not that an extra wattage of power to improve the heating could be considered a luxury, given the extremes of temperature Sanc could inflict on her people. But given none but the pilots flew in them on a daily basis only the cockpits were heated to any degree of comfort.

There was a time he would not have entertained thoughts on the inadequacies of heating a helicopter on a mission. Still, appropriate clothing gave one a different perspective to lying on a stretcher, practically in the buff, with a few blankets to stave off the chill.

He could hear Yuy on the radio to Preventers Headquarters, notifying Une they were inbound with a firm projected E.T.A. at last. Seventy six minutes? Not long to set his thoughts to surviving, to gearing up for another fight to preserve the dream of his father and his sister.

A peaceful world where wars were no longer fought, where blood did not flow freely in the streets as man contested with his fellow man for the right to stand that little bit taller.

Seventy six minutes to bring out the warrior. Seventy Six minutes to dust him off and face those waiting on the tarmac. They could be his executioners, whether they were or not it made no difference, he needed them to miss the persona of the warrior watching them as intently as they watched him.

Seventy six minutes…no, closer to seventy five now.

It was time to psyche himself up to the constant need to be alert physically and mentally. He needed to give no sign that it bothered him.

Knowing his killer could be standing beside him with a smiling face, or standing across from him and waving a welcome… he could be a kilometre away in a tall building with a high powered telescopic sight and a gun with enough grunt to blow his head off.

He, or she, could be anywhere, but he was warned. They would not find it easy to take him down now that he knew what he could expect.

Lies, deception, evasion, rare moments of honesty when it suited… they would try it all, but there were times when they could not hide from him. Times when no matter what they did their guard would be down. That was his time to hunt and hunt he would to find the rotten apple in the barrel.

Who was it that had taken down his security system and permitted the killer entry to his home? That one would have to be found, and quickly. Those pass codes were classified and known only to a few. They would fear his return… if they had a single working brain cell geared to survival in their heads.

He would need to isolate those responsible as efficiently as his abilities allowed. Shockingly circumstances had changed and it was no longer only his life at stake. If it was just himself at risk he might have played, taught them what it was to be the hunted, what it was to fear; but not now.

The life of a brilliant eyed young man who had braved a mountain blizzard to save his miserable hide demanded he not emulate the cat and play with his prey.

How similar their circumstances were. Maxwell was likewise ostracised from the community of man. Marked purely because he had the misfortune to have his face shown to the public and be identified as a Gundam pilot.

A terrorist.

The world had little tolerance for those who fought for the masses and failed to consult said masses on their wish to be fought for.

Zechs bared his teeth in a feral grin.

Such a funny world it was; a cruel and sad world. Humanity had no idea what it needed; or how to get what it thought it wanted. Humanity could turn on you as quickly as it lauded you a hero. From one day to the next things could turn full circle and you would not know if you were to be celebrated and fêted for saving civilisation as it was known, or be accused and convicted and reviled for perpetrating heinous crimes.

Once upon a time he had thought humanity to be worth the pain and the loneliness and the loss. To save civilisation the constant cycle of war bleeding into war over and over again… it had had to stop. A few brave souls had made a stand, and of those people those who had died were the lucky ones.

They had been forgiven by their fellow man.

Those who survived were forever marked, a few more so than others.

Gundam pilots had been terrorists and reviled as such, yet now were accredited with the saving of Earth and civilisation. Irony, thy name be humanity.

What a paradox for it to be Maxwell isolated and reviled, the sacrifice to the populace that the other pilots might find a niche for themselves in normal society. It was Maxwell who knew how to live while the others struggled to find themselves.

Not that any of the five had designated their individual roles to be played in the aftermath. Maxwell's face was known, the public and press did the rest.

And he? Ah, well, he was in a league all of his own. Such an honour. He was the bad boy, the greatest terrorist of all; Milliardo Peacecraft, the Commander of the White Fang. Someone had to be the bad boy so that Treize could be the shining light that would bring about the saving of the planet.

It was the greatest irony to have the son of a warrior family seen as a pacifist fighter, a man who was unafraid to fight for peace and lead the world against the hordes that represented the darkness of war and destruction and death. Forget that the opposing side thought of themselves the same thing.

Doubly ironic that the son of murdered pacifists should be the greatest villain the world had ever produced.

Who was he really? Who was Milliardo Peacecraft? He didn't know and if he didn't how could the rest of the world know with such certainty who and what he was? He was a dead man and he had to remain dead or endure until his death four short walls and a solid door. A tiny cubical in which to live out his sorry existence.

That would truly send him mad.

Who was he?

He had had many names in his life, short though that life had been. He was still in his twenties and life stretched out a long way ahead of him… unless those now targeting him succeeded. It was time to move on again, time to start afresh, give himself a new name.

He had been Milliardo, cherished by his mother and called her Sweet Thing, embarrassing to a six year old, but looked back on fondly by the man that child had grown into. Zechs had replaced the 'boy' of those who feared for their lives to be caught sheltering the one time Prince. There had been varying code names used in military missions after Lake Victoria. Since then enough people had called him 'Bastard', with varying degrees of venom, that he could answer to it readily enough. In Preventer he had been called Wind and beneath the shadows cast by his current employers he had been known as Black Opal.

Those persons now moving to take charge had wanted to name him assassin, executioner and murderer and now sought to remove him from the picture, enabling them to arrange matters to best suit their needs. He would not allow it and they would need to learn the Black Opal was inclined to retire the name and not have others sully it.

His next code name might, perhaps, best be something along the lines of Nightmare.

There would be time enough to decide what to call himself when he had dealt with the little problem of someone wanting him dead. Survival first, then escape to a new place, a new life. He had done it before, he could do it again.

It was all that was left to him to do.

* * *

Ten minutes. That was all the time he had before the proverbial shit might hit the fan.

When he landed the helicopter he would have no option other than to face whatever reception committee awaited him. While it was not certain, in his own mind Duo was sure it would be Preventers waiting for him, perhaps even Une herself. The big question would be their motive for being there.

If Marquise was right about the people he worked for and the changes taking place amidst their ranks, then Duo had cause to second guess any gestures made toward him. A return of the ruthlessness that had marked the old Federation could see someone wanting him controlled quickly and efficiently.

If, by some turn of fate, they proved to be short handed and did not have sufficient men within reach to call on, then it was not beyond the realms of possibility that they might enlist Preventers.

Possibly it would be Une herself. They would be more concerned with Marquise initially than in him, but if they had Une in their pocket…

Might, maybe, possibly… Oh he was going to be a paranoid bastard from here on out.

There was the possibility Une might not be as familiar with the organization as he suspected. With Une you could never be certain of where she stood and what games she might be playing. The woman who headed Preventer was the same woman who had seconded Treize Khushrenada and Duo knew her to be a trained assassin, not merely an administrative genius.

He did not doubt Une had her own agenda.

There were so many ways she might react to his involvement in this matter, but however she responded he was sure she would be unamused. Potentially she could decide to make a move ahead of any request that might be forthcoming by this black ops group to contain him.

It was also possible she might go so far as to offer him a commission in Preventer, yet again, sweetening the deal by offering it as a protection from the black ops organisation.

Would she admit to knowing about this group that worked in deep shadow? Would she admit, even to him, to being aware of them? From what Duo knew of her she would have her own plans for using them.

//How many games is she playing? Khushrenada had fingers in a whole lot of pies and Une would have known about them… just like Zechs seems to know a whole heap more than people in high places are comfortable with.//

No, Une was far from being a fool and was not likely to admit to anything. He had to wonder at the depth of her involvement and whether or not Preventer was compromised by her contact with them. He was uncomfortable just thinking about how often she might have used their services.

How ruthless would they be? How far had they fallen from grace?

//I don't know enough, that's the trouble. Zechs only told me sufficient to warn me to be on my guard. I know just enough to be aware, and not enough to work with.//

How was he supposed to bring a resolution to this fiasco? Simple answer, he was not expected to. Marquise did not want him getting involved, though he already was, simply because he had gone up the mountain. Given the little he knew, realistically what could he do to influence events?

He was in no less shit than Marquise.

There could be a bullet out there with his name on it, or a knife, or a vial of poison or…

//Hold up there, Maxwell, stop firing on all jets and slow it down.//

Allowing his imagination to run wild would solve nothing. They would have to be more subtle, more inventive in how they took him out.

//It sure as hell would be made to look like an accident, after all they wouldn't want to have an investigation into the death of one of the best hated terrorists on Earth, now would they?//

He had to deal with this properly and speculating when he was supposed to be on an approach path to Sanc airport was not the soundest decision of his life. Rather pathetic, actually…

Yes, receiving information from the tower beacon; right on mark.

//Time to call the Tower and…//

The blast of sound actually startled him.

His mobile was ringing?

Duo looked in astonishment at his pocket from which the cheerful strains of Deathscythe's alarms were blaring at him and mentally slapped himself. He had forgotten he had the device as it was inoperative up on the mountain in the teeth of the blizzard. He'd tucked it away that first night in his jacket pocket and promptly forgotten about it, focusing instead on surviving the old fashioned way.

//Nope. Not going to answer it.//

He had trusted his friends to trust him, and three out of the four had turned up and basically denounced him as a fool. Not the first time they had done so either. He was really getting tired of that attitude. He was no more an idiot for not working for Preventer than they were for working for the organisation.

No, he was not going to go down that cycle of negative grumping again. He had travelled that road innumerable times and it had left him with a foul taste in his mouth. Enough was enough.

Now he had an intriguing puzzle to solve.

He had resources. He had contacts in some very dark places that he might be able to gain some small knowledge of the goings on of a government sanctioned black ops unit. These people made it their business to know what happened out of the public eye… and they would not be above corrupting it to make use of it themselves.

Might that not be a part of the problem? Had a syndicate or conglomerate of dark bedfellows meddled in the pie? Someone was and that someone appeared to not want Marquise as a part of the organisation. That suggested they were afraid of him.

"Oh alright already!"

Damned phone refused to shut up and disturbed his train of thought and he had to contact the control tower and receive landing clearance…

Unknown number? Duo stared at the small screen in honest surprise. He had a very secure telephone line and no one outside of a very select few should have his number. Duo growled softly as he pressed receive, eyes skimming the control panel, noting the beacon strength, his proximity to the airport...

"Who the fuck is this and you better have a good explanation for having this number!"

"Heliport 37. Fifteen minutes."

The phone went dead but Duo knew that voice. He sucked in his breath and wondered why his 'something is wrong' itch was not itching… or maybe it was. That sense of wrongness, of disaster waiting to happen, had not really settled down since he had the urge to go up the mountain. The unease had become so much a part of him since Yuy, Chang and Barton had turned up that he would probably think it odd when it did stop… which was not now.

Quatre.

Quatre had called him, failed to openly identify himself, and had given him a location and a time limit in which to get there.

//Okay…//

Duo drew the thought out, giving himself a second or two to consider the situation. Trouble, that was obvious, but what could have bothered Quatre enough to set up a meeting in secret?

"Ah damn, Kitty Kat, what have you done?"

He had an uncomfortable feeling Quatre had meddled in something he should have avoided. It would have been after the departure of Barton from New Port City. Trowa might have been the only one to contain Quatre, and Une had assigned him to the team going up the mountain. That blonde bombshell he called his friend was a magnet for trouble and if something sparked his curiosity…

"Shit, shit, shit and more shit! What did you do? Trowa is gonna blame me and give me hell when he finds out!"

Heliport 37? That was a private heliport in a zoned rural/residential district of Sanc… and far enough away that to reach it in fifteen minutes he would have to skip landing in New Port City.

So Quatre wanted him to avoid landing and was afraid of ears listening, even on a handset that Yuy had supposedly secured against bugging.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do?

He wanted to investigate the organisation backing Marquise and he had hoped to get a glimpse, maybe some photos, of the pick up crew… but he could not, would not, abandon Quatre to whatever ants nest he was digging.

"Well… I suppose I could arrange to get the CCTV footage from terminal security… maybe dig some info out of Trowa later. If he ever talks to me again after finding out about this! I did promise Marquise I would butt out and go underground for a while, but… damn!"

He would just have to trust Marquise knew his people and hope they did not shoot him at the terminal.

"Sanc Tower, this is…"

—————————————————

Yuy's head snapped up and he glanced over his shoulder, inclining forward enough to enable him to look back along their flight path. Wu Fei swore softly as the helicopter dipped before Yuy pulled it back to level flight and then sat there, scowling at the instruments.

"What was that all about?! You will smear us all into the concrete the way you are flying!"

For a long moment Yuy made no response to Chang's venomous tone. He was more than accustomed to the man's penchant for verbal critique. When he did speak his voice was carefully expressionless, his hand solidly on the flight stick.

"Maxwell's done a bunk."

Trowa's head snapped up and he hissed in alarm. That was just what he did not need! Now he was going to have to inform Quatre that Duo had snapped, yet again, and taken off. Only this time he had legged it with a Winner Enterprises emergency helicopter! Could he not have waited, talked to them in calm and neutral surroundings… and above all waited to speak to Quatre?

"What?!" Chang let loose with a stream of inventive rhetoric in Mandarin and tightened his grip on the edge of his seat. "The man is a fool!"

Heero grunted, offering no comment, his gaze shifting to the doorway into the body of the helicopter. What would Marquise think of Maxwell taking off without a word of warning? He knew Marquise had warned Duo to go to ground, but he had not expected Duo would actually do so; certainly not before he saw Marquise safely back to New Port City.

Personally Heero thought it was for the best, none of them had heard the last of this mission. He had the disturbing notion it would haunt them for some time and ruin all of their carefully thought out plans for their futures. Marquise was not someone you could ignore and he had been frighteningly accurate in how he had read them back in the cabin.

Try as they might to be normal not one of them had really come close.

Marquise was not the sort of man to let an attempt on his life pass him by without taking decisive action. Someone had come very close to killing a man who was notoriously hard to kill. Marquise should have been dead at least three times over, near as Heero could figure it. But on this occasion someone had gotten close enough to take him down and he had almost died as a result.

If he had been the target, Heero knew he would tear the Earth and Colonies apart until he found the responsible bodies and explained to them the error of their ways.

If he had been the target and survived as Marquise had, he would have hunted them down and killed them. Quickly, neatly, expediently. The bodies would never be found.

He did not think Zechs Marquise would be content to discretely remove the perpetrators from the picture, making the world a better place for their unremarked on departure.

One thing he had learned from associating with Relena and browsing through archives kept by the family for centuries, was that Peacecrafts were a funny breed of humanity. They had a habit of taking things personally, as demonstrated by Marquise hunting down and killing those responsible for the murders of his parents; all of them had been dead by the time Zechs reached the tender age of nineteen.

Marquise was older now. He had grown up. Necessity had taught him to be patient, cold and calculating. His was not exactly a forgiving nature.

And he had grown to be very good at what he did.

End

Karina Robertson 2010

* * *

Hi there

Sorry for the delay on this chapter, its been re worked a number of times.

The second installment of Friends will now take over from Friends and while I'm still not sure of what to call it, it could be something as inventive as Friends 2 or perhaps Friends and Enemies. Undecided at the moment, but I do hope you will continue to read when the new chapters begin to come. At the moment I would think the first should be ready around the first couple of weeks of February, or there abouts.

Karina


End file.
